


Black

by whitherwaywill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Regulus Black, Background Relationships, But Only a Little Bit - Freeform, Drarry, F/M, How Do I Tag, M/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Oblivious Harry, Possession, Regulus Black Deserves Better, Regulus Black Lives, Regulus Black-centric, Ron Weasley Bashing, Slow Burn, Threesome - F/M/M, Yup you read that right, background threesome ig, you might like it try it!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 60,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22959967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitherwaywill/pseuds/whitherwaywill
Summary: Walburga Black hated one son with a passion, and loved the other furiously. To make sure she'd never have to live without her favorite, she invokes a terrible bond between the brothers. When Sirius is killed, Regulus is brought back. How will Harry, Hermione, and Ron handle the return of the wrong brother? And what was the real reason for the bond?
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Regulus Black & Hermione Granger, Regulus Black/Hermione Granger, Regulus Black/Marlene McKinnon, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 52
Kudos: 173





	1. Parenting: What Not to Do (pt. 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Repost from fanfiction.net, with edits :)

March, 1960  
Malfoy Manor

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A large chandelier glittered and refracted light from a crackling fire as it hung over a long, rectangular table. Three fourths of the table were completely empty. At one end, three people stood over a cradle. 

“He is a handsome child,” a tall man with dark hair and piercing, soulless black eyes said. He stood over the child, examining him in a clinical manner.

“He – he is, my lord,” the second man in the group responded. He clutched the arm of the woman next to him. Her grey eyes were fixed on the Dark Lord with an intensity that warned him to stay away from her child. 

“Calm yourself, Mrs. Black,” Lord Voldemort chuckled. “I shall not harm the child.”

“Yet,” she hissed under her breath. 

The Dark Lord sneered. “I was led to believe that your participation in this…experiment…was consensual. After all, I highly doubt your husband would be able to complete a…spell…of this calibre.”

Slightly mollified, Walburga lifted the baby from the bassinet into her arms. Orion, standing next to her, was silent and stoic, tense against the threat of the monster in the room.

“May I?” The Dark Lord asked. He did not wait for a response, immediately running a hand over the infant, casting silent detection spells. Walburga refused to relax, as the Dark Lord had ordered, until the man had moved away from her firstborn, a fierce light in her eye. 

“Hmm,” the Dark Wizard hummed contemplatively. “Yes, he will do nicely. He has power, but not enough to combat that of my ancestor. He will not let Slytherin’s magic go to waste.” He flicked his gaze over the infant’s mother, a formidable woman in her own right. “What is his name?” he asked. 

“Sirius Orion Black,” she informed him, her hostile tone subdued by her own fear and her husband’s hand, holding her arm with an iron grip. 

“Wonderful,” the Dark Lord breathed. “He is too young now, and we have no one whose blood is closely related enough to his. A brother, or sister I suppose, would be ideal.” He fixed his stare upon Orion, who straightened. “Once he is of age, his magic and body will be mature enough. You, my dear, will cast the curse. And then, the great Salazar Slytherin will once more be among us.”

“Yes, my Lord,” the parents murmured. The three stood there for a moment, then the Dark Lord held his hands out expectantly.

Walburga's grip on her son tightened, and a small, pitiful cry escaped him. "Walburga," Orion breathed, a tense edge to his voice. The couple exchanged a glance. Her jaw ticked, and she dared to look the Dark Lord in the eyes. He smiled, a vicious grin. 

With shaking hands, Walburga passed off her only son to the Dark Lord. The man gazed at the infant with maniacal glee. Cradling the boy in his arms like a father, he easily slipped into Parseltongue. 

“You will be a great host,” Lord Voldemort hissed, a cruel smile on his face. “We shall do great things, you and I.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	2. Parenting: What Not to Do (pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> black family insanity + ancient blood rituals = AU Deathly Hallows

**December, 1975**

**12 Grimmauld Place**

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“And so, _Mother_ , I am leaving.” Sirius concluded his lengthy rant, although he would probably prefer it to be called a speech, hoisting a knapsack over his shoulder.

Regulus stood, frozen, next to his mother, who was shaking with fury. Regulus closed his eyes as the storm broke, and his brother’s flippant words were thrown back at him.

“You, Sirius Orion Black, are a d _isgrac_ e to our ancient and noble house. A disgrace! You spend all your time with blood-traitors and mudbloods, up there in your Gryffindor Tower, but I tell you now, son…you will never be one of them. Never. You…”

If Regulus had been raised as anyone other than a Black, he would’ve missed the flash of anger and fear in his brother’s eyes. It didn’t linger. Sirius rolled his eyes and opened the front door. “Bye,” he said.

“No.” Walburga’s eyes flashed as she wandlessly slammed the door shut, barely missing Sirius’ foot. He jumped back, grey eyes widening in surprise at his mother’s change in expression. While listening to him, her face had been wiped clean of all emotion. Now, she was very obviously furious. “You may think you’re above all judgement, sitting up there in your ‘ _Gryffindor_ Tower’, but your _blood_ belongs in the dungeons,” she hissed. “Stupefy.”

“Mother…” Regulus said, shaking as his brother fell to the floor, a shocked expression on his face.

“Come, Regulus,” Walburga Black said imperiously, levitating Sirius’ body alongside her as she marched into the parlour. Ever the obedient son, Regulus followed, cursing his brother’s flair for dramatics.

Walburga stopped in front of the family tapestry, depicting the generations and generations of Blacks, lines crisscrossing more than they separated.

With a mad glint in her eye, she pulled Sirius up to her height, and drew a knife from one of the pockets in her huge dress. Regulus tensed, eyes darting back and forth as his mind worked at a thousand miles an hour, searching for the reason that he could normally find in his mother’s madness. Using the silver knife, she slashed Sirius’ left forearm, from elbow to wrist.

“Mother!” Regulus protested as blood began dripping from his brother’s arm. “Mother, what are you…”

“Don’t worry, Regulus,” Walburga crooned. “This is all for you. You are my beloved, my heir…you will serve impeccably, I know you, Regulus. Our one perfect son. Your brother is worthless, useless. I will not risk him sending the Ancient and Noble House of Black into ruin. If the boy can’t be loyal to his House, and serve our Lord, he will be made useful in other ways.”

“No! Mother!” Regulus said, rushing to his brother with his wand out to staunch the blood. “I don’t know what you’re doing,” he gasped, “But it cannot be good. I cannot let you…” Regulus trailed off, looking up at his mother, eyes huge with fright. He felt like he was walking on a floor he couldn’t see. Walburga slowly turned toward her younger son, the one who had never spoken back, who had made her so proud being sorted into Slytherin.

“No?” she repeated in a whisper. “This will ensure that I will never have to lose you, my darling. You cannot stop me from preventing the loss of another son.”

She swept an arm toward him, and he was thrown back against the wall, slamming his head, hard. His head spun, and his vision blurred, his brother coming in and out of focus. His mother approached him with the knife, and cut a slice into his right arm. She allowed the blood to drip on the knife, then returned to the tapestry.

The last thing Regulus remembered before slipping into unconsciousness was his mother holding the knife to the family tapestry, and chanting.

“Huic sanguinis vincula vestro. Vocat sanguinem et sanguinem, una cum moritur homo sic et illa natus fuerit denuo…”

_With this blood, I tie you together. Blood calls to blood. When one dies, so the other shall be born again._

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

**June 18, 1996**

**The Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic**

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Come on, you can do better than that!” Sirius yelled as he battled his crazy cousin, Bella. He laughed at the look of rage on her face.

Her next curse caught him off guard.

It hit him right in the chest, a red light that disappeared as it sank into his skin. He felt himself slowly falling backwards, a numbness spreading throughout his body. As he fell through the veil that had been behind him the whole battle, the last thing he saw was Harry, his best friend’s son, screaming at Bellatrix, both their wands out.

_Harry. No…_

He sank into oblivion, and began to close his eyes. Suddenly, a burning pain ripped through his left forearm. He screamed, but no one answered. All he could see was the shifting grey smoke-like haze. He was alone.

The sensation tore through his arm, shredding it until he was surprised he had an arm left at all. In a flash, the grey nothingness was replaced by black, and he saw his brother emerge in the distance. Of course, he thought through the pain. Regulus is dead too.

But Sirius was moving one way, and his brother was moving the other. His brother’s form blurred and twisted, as if his body was not one, but two tied together. Sirius’ heart heaved as he saw the panicked look on his brother’s face.

“Sirius!” Regulus yelled into the void.

“Reggie!” Sirius called back.

He saw his brother moving past him. No, he thought. I let him go once. It won’t happen again.

His brother grabbed his left forearm without warning, and suddenly the two were gripping each other’s arm.

His brother’s vibrating shape settled into one form at Sirius’ touch. Regulus’ youthful face, no older than the day he died, was so full of fear. “Regulus,” Sirius whispered as the burning pain began making its way through his whole body, something inside him triggered at that horrible look on his little brother’s face. His baby brother. He had to protect his little brother. “Reggie…”

Then Sirius Black was gone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Aaagh!”

Regulus screamed as he felt his body being melded together again, piece by molten piece.

_Ravenclaw…Hufflepuff…Gryffindor…a safe place…protect the younglings from the darkness.._

The pain was worse than anything he had felt before, worse than Crucio, worse than being drowned by Inferi…

_mudbloods…filth…dangerous…witch hunts…I shall create a basilisk…_

…every time he thought it was over, a new torture began.

_cannot condone this behavior? well, I cannot condone yours…if you cannot bring yourself to care…I shall leave behind a…gift…for the future generations…only my true heir…my true heir… my true heir…_

_MY TRUE HEIR…_

At long last, he was thrown out what felt like a doorway, ripping through a layer of what felt like cloth. He collapsed onto a hard floor. He lay there, panting, for more than a minute. For hours, it seemed. Finally, he summoned the strength to move. Lifting his head, he recognized where he was at once.

The parlor at Grimmauld Place.

Regulus shook as he moved his head to the right, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. But there it was…the family tapestry, with its intertwined lines and pictures with names and dates, with the smudge of blood at the very bottom from his mother’s experiment.

He had spent years searching for his mother’s incantation in books, needing to know what the spell she used was. After finding nothing, he had to dismiss it as an experiment. He had been wrong, so horribly, terribly wrong. That experiment, if he had translated the Latin right, was why he was here.

Walburga Black had known _exactly_ what she was doing with that blood magic.

He searched out a name on the tapestry and found it. Sirius Orion Black, and to the right, Regulus Arcturus Black. He shuddered as he saw the tapestry undoing and redoing dates.

As he watched, his brother’s fate was written out in impeccable calligraphy.

_Sirius Orion Black_

_3 November, 1959 – 18 June, 1996_

Regulus gulped back a sob that whatever this world was, his brother wouldn’t be there to greet him and help him through it. He almost missed the date of death under his own name being erased, replaced with a line that seemed to leave everything open.

Regulus gasped back tears as he began to realise just what his mother had done.

_When one dies, so the other shall be born again…_

Born again. He, Regulus Arcturus Black, had been born again…at the same age he died. Eighteen years old.

“Why?” he rasped. “Why would you do this, Mother?”

“Master!” A voice squeaked. “Mistress said it would work. Master is back!”

“What?” Regulus heaved himself to his feet, towering over the elf that had popped into existence next to him. He looked at him. “Kreacher,” he sighed.

“Master remembers,” the elf said, eyes brimming with tears.

“Kreacher,” Regulus said, closing his eyes against the light and trying to think. “What did Mistress say would work?”

The elf looked as if he were torn between two orders, wanting to respond but at the same time not able to. Footsteps running down a staircase saved him from having to answer the question that, technically, was not an order.

“Master must leave this room,” the old elf said quietly. “Kreacher will take him to his room now. The people in this house…” Kreacher shook his head. “They are bad, bad people who – “

Footsteps came closer and closer to the parlor door.

“We must go now!” Kreacher said. He grabbed Regulus’ arm and apparated them to a room with dust that showed the passing of time, even if nothing else did.

The apparition did not help his headache. Swaying woozily, Regulus tried to fight a losing battle to stay awake. The throbbing in his temples grew as voices in his head became louder.

_Eternity becomes boring…if you have the talent to create such a curse, I would be happy to come back and assist you to achieve your goal…_

Giving up, he allowed himself to lose consciousness. _I’ll figure it all out tomorrow_ , he thought, his own thoughts swept away from that singular voice. _Tomorrow._

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Give him an order. If he has passed into your ownership, he will have to obey. If not, then we shall have to think of some other means of keeping him from his rightful mistress.”

Abruptly, Kreacher stopped screeching and looked up at Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter.

“Kreacher won’t be kept from his master,” the elf croaked. “He won’t, won’t, won’t!”

With that, the elf apparated out of the room with a crack.

“Well,” Dumbledore sighed. “That _is_ a problem.”

“Master?” Harry asked, catching the small discrepancy. He looked toward his headmaster, who shook his head.

He knew no more than Harry did.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	3. Back From the Dead (oh, joy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> regulus + being alive = well, he's not quite sure yet

**June, 1997**

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

Kreacher, in his old age, had become more than a little senile. Regulus holed up in his old room, barely venturing out into the rest of the house. The first few days he had been back from the dead had been erased in horrible, terrible pain, a pain that felt like his magic attempting to tear his newly resurrected body apart. After over 78 hours, it had finally faded, and Regulus had settled into a chair by the window in his room. Kreacher brought meals to him; he lost track of the passing of time. He spent his days staring out his window, wearing his brother’s robes, and never using magic. 

His sixteen-year-old self would have been horrified at his unproductivity. That young boy, had he been put into this situation, would’ve pulled his wand from his robes and begun polishing his skills. His eighteen-year-old resurrected self didn’t care enough about himself or the world to rouse himself from his seat.

Regulus was vaguely aware of happenings in the rest of the house, mostly from Kreacher’s disgusted ramblings about the people who were defiling the house of his Mistress, of who he was still slavishly enamored of. Regulus had to hand it to his mother…she knew how to command the devotion of a creature that belonged to her. Heaven knows it had worked with him.

When Kreacher looked up at him, eyes large and watery, tufted ears back, asking him if he would retake Black Manor, Regulus looked away. He couldn’t muster up enough feeling to care that strangers, most likely Sirius’ friends, had taken over his house.

About a year later, or what he thought was a year, the house was overtaken by a huge commotion. Regulus barely moved as people shouted and ran past doors, as furniture and trunks bumped down the stairs. He was unmoved by the weeping and crying of those that Kreacher hated. The old elf was prejudiced, and followed the lead of his even more prejudiced mistress. Regulus couldn’t determine whether Kreacher’s hatred of the residents meant they were Dumbledore’s Order, or Death Eaters. 

He was terribly, horribly alone with his thoughts.

At night, when most of them had cleared out, Regulus ventured out of his room for the first time since he had gotten back. Creeping down the staircase and past the kitchen, he stood in the entryway, looking at the curtains that covered a loud and prejudiced portrait of his mother. Whenever the intruders accidentally opened the curtains, he could hear Walburga’s voice all the way from his room.

Regulus stared at those curtains for an indeterminable amount of time. He wondered which side of her personality the portrait had captured; her prejudiced, ruthlessly intelligent, and fiercely loyal side, or her even more prejudiced, intelligent, terribly insane side.

The man couldn’t bring himself to find out. He went back to his room without opening the curtains, narrowly missing a grizzled man in Auror robes who was patrolling the hallways.

Sometimes he wondered who they were. Sometimes he wondered if the Dark Lord was gone. Sometimes he wondered if Kreacher had been able to follow Regulus’ last orders.

Regulus never asked.

It was this morbid and unsated curiosity that brought Regulus out when there were only two people left in the house, a man with a gnarled wooden leg, and a balding red-headed man.

“You don’t think Severus will try to come back here, do you?” the red-head said.

“Arthur, that man has obviously been double-agenting ever since he joined the Order,” peg-leg man said. “Constant vigilance. I don’t trust him any farther than I can throw him.”

Regulus felt his stomach sink as the two set up a few nasty jinxes, then went on their way. Once they had gone, he sat, his knees pulled up to his chest, on the top step of the main staircase.

Severus. The Order. Constant vigilance. _Double agent_. Regulus had inherited enough of his mother’s intelligence to know what those scrambled phrases and words hinted.

The war wasn’t over.

Regulus buried his head in his arms, waiting for the burning sensation in his eyes to become tears.

It didn’t. It just burned hotter and hotter, spreading to the rest of his body until he felt he was burning up. Oddly, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It turned the sadness and fear into anger, anger that nothing had changed since he died.

_…kill them all…they are unworthy… your damnably, infuriatingly strong magic…release me!_

Regulus jumped to his feet, shaking his head furiously, trying to get rid of the voice in his head. He marched into his room with short, clipped steps, and tore down every single bit of Voldemort paraphernalia from his walls. He threw the clippings and photos into the bathroom sink. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to calm, and reached into a part of him that he hadn’t seen in a long while.

“ _Incendio_ ,” he growled, and a whoosh of fire shot out of the wand that Regulus had been extremely grateful to find in the pocket of the robes he had worn to his death.

He tried to ignore the frightening feeling pulsing through his wand hand as he once again stowed the weapon away.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The room was dark; the only light was from the waning moon in the sky outside. What few stars that could be seen through the smog and clouds of London were undistinguishable from any other star. Regulus sat in the chair he had made his permanent residence, a black shadow blotting out some of the light.

In his hands he held his wand, twisting it and brushing his hands over the smooth outer face. His thoughts whirled around each other, almost too fast for him to keep track of. He was just glad that they were HIS thoughts, and not the muddled phrases that had jumped into his head as soon as he used his magic.

Which brought him to his magic. It had changed. That flame…before his death, Regulus never would have been able to create such a strong fire. And the voice. Well, of course the voice was new. Before his death, Regulus had been perfectly sane, thank you very much. No Black madness lurking in the depths, waiting to drag him down as soon as possible. No voices in his head speaking nonsense…

He stood up rapidly and began pacing back and forth. He spun the wand in his fingers agitatedly, his confusion and ignorance pressing upon him. He felt blind, so blind, with no answers anywhere to be found. His pacing sped up, and his breathing along with it. The chaotic whirl of thoughts in his head pooled together and began to rapidly spin, a noise he couldn’t hear making his ears ache until he was absolutely sure his head was going to explode –

_“Reg.”_

_It was silent. Regulus slowly opened his eyes._

_“Hey, you.” A beautiful vision stood before him. Innocent blue eyes, with golden hair falling all around her face in glorious disarray._

_“You’re staring,” she teased. A mischievous smile crept across her face._

_“Why wouldn’t I?” he said. The higher pitch of his voice startled him. “You’re easily the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen.”_

_She grinned. A gentle blush covered her cheek. “I won’t fall for your silver-tongued trickery, Black.”_

_“Ouch,” Regulus laughed. He wrapped an arm around her, tugging her into his side. She leaned into him. Together, they gazed down at the shining lake. In that one moment, he was happy. Content. Then the feeling faded. The lake was too shiny, too bright…his brow furrowed against the glare. “Where are we?” Regulus asked._

_She didn’t answer. Then, a high pitched sound started to wail in Regulus’ ear. He shook his head, trying to get rid of it. The girl beside him stiffened. Her face hardened with determination._

_“Someone needs help, Reg,” she said._

_“It’s fine, love,” he reassured her. “Probably just some kids messing around by the lake.”_

_“No.” The harshness of her tone surprised him. “They need your help, Regulus. Wake up.”_

_“What?” They? He could feel a headache coming on. Most people he knew spoke in riddles, but she never had. “What do you mean?”_

_“Wake up, Regulus. Wake up!”_

Regulus startled awake, slouched in his chair by the window. The screaming didn’t stop. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Regulus cringed. “Kreacher!” he yelled. Why his elf hadn’t found the source of that unholy noise and dispatched it quickly, Regulus didn’t know. “Kreacher!” he called again.

There was no response. The wails continued. Then, in a split second, Regulus realised who was screaming. In the next instant, he was out of his chair and dashing out the door and down the stairs.

His wand, laying on the bedside table, trembled as he slammed the bedroom door behind him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Thief! Thief! Master Regulus – “

Regulus slammed the door against the wall as he practically fell into the closet Kreacher called his own, out of breath from his dash down the stairs. The sight before him took a moment to comprehend.

An older man he didn’t know, who seemed to ooze with grease, was standing over Kreacher with an irritated glare. In one hand he held a large, threadbare sack that was bulging with, Regulus assumed, what non-lethal values one could find in Black Manor. In the other hand –

Regulus felt himself grow faint at the sight of the golden locket, the green S mocking him as it swung from the would-be thief’s hand.

“Oi – who’re you?” The thief demanded. “This here’s my property, and I won’t – “

“Your property?” Regulus growled. Kreacher was wailing, and the room was becoming fuzzy. The golden locket mesmerized him, even as he fought off the memories tooth and nail. His hand twitched as he reached into his empty pocket for his wand. “This is my property, criminal. And that is my necklace.”

“What – this?”

“Accio.” One moment, he was pointing a shaky wand hand at Slytherin’s necklace. The next, he was holding the thieving scoundrel by the neck, forcing him to drop both the necklace and the bag.

“This is _my_ property,” he repeated. The words felt like lava flowing out of his mouth. “I will give you one chance. _Leave.”_ He released his hold on the man and shoved him away.

Whimpering, the thief hurriedly regained his balance and snatched up the bag before racing out of the room.

_Thief!_ Regulus shook his head from side to side erratically as the voice that was not his own once again invaded his mind. _Robber! Common pickpocket! How dare he trespass on such an ancient and noble property, that of –_

Regulus groaned and banged his head against the wall. Slowly, he slid down to crouch on the floor. Just his luck that he came back from the dead with his mother’s voice in his head.

The voice silenced for now, he leaned forward and fell onto his knees. In front of him, the gold and silver Slytherin necklace mocked him.

He knew what this piece of jewelery had been. He knew what it still must be. With a cautious hand, he reached forward and lifted it off the floor. As he examined it, he heard the popping sound of elven apparition.

“The sneak-thief is gone, Master,” Kreacher sniffed. “Gone with the bag full of my Mistress’ treasures, oh my poor mistress, how Kreacher has failed…”

Regulus held the necklace by the chain. The locket at the bottom slowly spun, the green S captivating as it glittered in the light.

“Kreacher is sorry, Master,” Kreacher whispered. His large eyes swam with tears. “Kreacher tried, he tried, but he couldn’t destroy it…”

_Horcruxxx…_ the voice that was not his own whispered in his head. Regulus squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, pushing the tingling, magical feeling down until it had all but disappeared.

“Master?” A hesitant croak pulled him out of his reverie. “Shall Kreacher punish himself, Master?”

“No.” Regulus snapped, rising to his feet. “Go…go continue with your chores, Kreacher.” The elf bowed low, the tip of his nose grazing the carpet.

“Yes, Master,” he hummed. A loud crack indicated the house elf’s disappearance.

Regulus pocketed Slytherin’s locket. With steady steps he walked back up the stairs, into his room. Trembling, he stopped at the doorway. There was his wand, sitting on the table next to his bed. Taking the necklace out, he moved around the bed. He set the necklace down with firm, measured movements. Then he retook his place in the chair by the window.

Yet try as he might to return to his thoughts, one word wouldn’t stop echoing in his mind.

_Horcruxxx…_

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Regulus was in his usual position, watching the street, when he felt someone break through the wards. They had apparated onto his doorstep, it seemed.

There had been a few other disturbances during the time after the other residents had left. He had ignored all but the thief, to whose thieving he was alerted to by Kreacher’s screams. But this one was different…this one almost felt _familiar._

He slowly creaked out of his chair, feeling more like an old man than any nineteen-year-old should.

Was he only nineteen? Regulus contemplated that question as he moved to stand outside his door, gripping his wand. Yes, he had been eighteen at the time of his death, yes he had come back to life a little over a year ago, but what about the years in between?

_Don’t worry, Reg. We’re safe here._

He flinched away from the soft, feminine voice, and turned his attention back to the task at hand.

It was a few minutes before anything happened. Then, he heard the creak of the old stairs. Someone was walking up at a quick pace. As they neared his door, they slowed down.

Regulus took a deep breath. It was now or never, he supposed. He whipped his door open, and pointed his wand at the stranger.

“Levicorpus!” It was the first spell that came to mind when he saw the shocked face of the man who had broken into his house. He regretted his choice the moment he verified who it was.

“Severus?” he whispered, moving out of his room.

Snape’s black eyes were wide, staring as if they couldn’t believe what was before them.

“Reg – Regulus?” he stuttered. “What…how? How?”

“Liberacorpus,” Regulus muttered, releasing his friend. “Don’t ask, Sev. I assume it was blood magic…and when you’re dealing with my mother, sometimes ignorance is best.”

Severus gaped at the boy, the boy who was supposed to be dead.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “I know I’m incredibly handsome, Snape, but could you possibly save your gawking for another time?”

Severus shook his head. “You were dead,” he said. “You were dead, and Sirius is dead, and there are no more Blacks, except for your cousins, but I’m not certain they should count, they all married into…”

Regulus winced. “Severus,” he said.

“What?” Severus asked, his face twisting. “You knew your brother was dead, didn’t you?”

Regulus tensed at the not so subtle reference to Severus’ hatred for everything related to James Potter or Sirius Black. He smoothed his face, closing himself off. “What are you here for, Severus?”

Severus shook his head, still staring. “Came to look through Sirius’ things. Came to see if…” he broke off, turning away. “To see if he had anything…from…her…”

Regulus sighed, remembering the older boy’s time-enduring crush on the red-haired Gryffindor.

“Look then, and leave,” he said gruffly. “Don’t tell anyone you saw me.”

Severus nodded, then moved to continue down the hall.

“Wait,” Regulus said. “Answer one question for me.” He needed to verify this. He needed to make sure where the world stood, because as soon as he saw Severus’ face, Regulus knew he had to begin making plans.

As much as he might want it to, Grimmauld Place couldn’t hide him forever.

Severus made eye contact with Regulus. “Yes,” he said, in answer to the unspoken question. “He’s alive. He’s here. We still have hope, but…” Severus took a deep breath. “The Dark Lord’s alive, Reg.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Now, with him and Kreacher alone in the house, and his worst suspicion confirmed, Regulus took to dressing in the morning, and taking his morning tea downstairs in the parlor, where he would spend hours tracing the dates and names on the family tapestry with his eyes.

Mornings were for grief. Afternoons were for research. He gave himself a purpose, working his way through the library, searching for some reference to the spell his mother had cast that he hadn’t found during his previous search, many years before. Regulus knew that only one person had the answers he was looking for, and there was one way to contact the one person. But he still hadn’t been able to find the courage that had allowed him to defy a Dark Lord, and use it to open the curtains and speak to his mother’s portrait. Regulus didn’t know whether it would hurt more for her to be displeased to see him, or for her to fawn over him and insult his late brother in the same breath.

He began requesting a Daily Prophet. Kreacher went out in the mornings, and stole one from who knows where. Regulus cared less about how he was getting it, and more about whether or not he got it.

He learned that it was 1997, July 1997, to be exact. He saw that Voldemort was still alive and kicking, and causing general panic and despair. By sending Kreacher to the archives, he learned even more about what had happened while he was gone. He learned that Voldemort had been defeated the first time around by a small boy.

He marked that one for further research.

He marked a lot of articles for further research.

Regulus went on like this for about a month, relying on the Daily Prophets for the date.

One day, he had gone up to his room after lunch to grab a book that he wanted to cross reference with an article he had found in the library.

On his way back to the library, he froze, halfway down the stairs. He felt the same disturbance in the wards he had felt when Severus had visited. Someone was here, someone who had known the location beforehand. Regulus stood, motionless, as those some _ones_ began to speak in hushed tones.

“I think somebody’s been in here…”

“That could’ve happened as the Order left.”

“So where are these jinxes they put up against Snape?”

“Maybe they’re only activated if he shows up?”

There was a pause, long enough for Regulus to evaluate the conversation he had just heard. He cocked his head to the side, watching the shadows in the entryway, who, as of yet, hadn’t noticed him.

“Well, we can’t stay here forever,” one of the male voices said, and a shadowy figure took a step.

“ _Severus Snape_?” The voice of the peg-leg Auror interrupted the three.

“We’re not Snape!” the bravest one said, in a voice that was barely there. Regulus smirked, and sat back, relaxing, although his wand never left its ready position. He half-listened as they saw the dust corpse that Severus had told him about, then cringed as the curtains opened and Walburga began shrieking.

_“Mudbloods, filth, stains of dishonour, taint of shame on the house of my fathers – “_

“SHUT UP!” the brave one shouted, closing the curtains.

“Before we go any further, I think we’d better check,” the girl whispered. “ _Homenum revelio_.”

Regulus felt the magic whisper over his skin and stiffened, knowing that with her use of that charm, he wouldn’t be able to hide out in his room like he had done the last time people were here.

“Well, you’ve just had a big shock,” the tallest one said in a deprecating tone. “What was that supposed to do?”

Regulus almost snorted at the ignorance of the man.

“It did what I meant it to do, Ron! _Someone’s here_!” the girl said, horrified, but still speaking quietly. The three held out their wands, finally scouring their surroundings thoroughly enough to see Regulus, standing on the stairs.

“Nicely done, that,” he said as he began walking down the stairs, casting a quick protego.

The brave one backed up as his expelliarmus backfired. Regulus flicked his wand at the lights, turning them on.

“Sirius?” The one in the front, the brave one, stepped forward, green eyes wide behind circular glasses. A shock ran through Regulus’ body, knocking the breath right out of him. The boy looked exactly like James Potter. He looked about the same age as Regulus’ body was. Eighteen, or somewhere thereabouts, Regulus was guessing. It couldn’t be Potter. Impossible.

The girl and a redhead who bore some resemblance to the man who had helped to set up the jinxes lingered behind, their wands still out.

“Wrong brother,” Regulus said, his face emotionless, suppressing the emotions swirling behind the façade. Coming to the bottom of the stairs, he gave the trio a sweeping bow.

“Regulus Arcturus Black, at your service.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	4. Home Invasion Is Not Always A Bad Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harry + hermione + ron + regulus = shenanigans

At first glance, he looked like Sirius. But the moment Harry said Sirius’ name, the moment the young man began to move down the stairs, Hermione knew it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Sirius.

She was relieved. Sirius was reckless, and defiant, and…she only got that far before the guilt set in. Lowering her wand a minute bit, she observed the man walking down the stairs.

“Wrong brother,” he said with a sneer that would put Draco Malfoy to shame. Somehow, it looked…wrong…on his face. “Regulus Arcturus Black, at your service.

Hermione wanted to laugh when he bowed. The motion just seemed to fit his aristocratic features, the fine (if outdated) robes, the long, raven black hair falling gracefully around his face.

Regulus held in a smirk as he noticed the way the girl was looking at him, evaluating him. “Please, this way,” Regulus said, gesturing toward the kitchen. He could be polite, even if they were still lingering in the entryway. 

“You’re…you’re dead,” the girl whispered. Her wand arm fell to her side, although the red-head kept his aimed. She walked closer to Regulus, taking on a clinical look. “Are you a ghost?”

“I assure you, Miss, I am very much alive,” Regulus said irritably, before she could poke him to check. His momentary amusement was quenched as he remembered just how much he _didn’t_ like people. He wasn’t in the mood to be questioned by intruders. “Why don’t we all head toward the kitchen. Kreacher can get us all a cup of tea, and we can have a nice long conversation where I answer _some_ of your questions…and you answer _all_ of mine.” He waved his wand loosely, a silent threat. The message was clear. If his home was to be invaded, it would be on his terms. The girl moved first. Then, the boys followed, and the three hurried off to the kitchen, following his instructions.

The girl gingerly sat in a chair, eyes on him the whole time, still gripping her wand. The boys sat on either side of her, sandwiching her between them protectively. Regulus took a seat across from them. Observing them, he wondered why the boys thought it was their job to protect the only female of the group, when after only a few minutes in her presence Regulus was fairly certain she could take on Bellatrix Lestrange and win.

“Now,” Regulus said, setting his wand down beside him and folding his hands on top of the table. “Let’s start with names. I am Regulus Black. You are?”

“Harry Potter,” the brave one said, clenching his jaw. Regulus’ eyes narrowed, for just a moment, as he remembered the man who must have been Harry Potter’s father. The man of whom Harry was the spitting image.

But with the mudblood’s eyes. Lily Evans’ eyes.

_Severus must have been livid when he first laid eyes on this one,_ Regulus thought, amused.

“Ron Weasley,” the ginger choked out.

“Hermione Granger,” the girl said, looking at him speculatively. “How are you alive?”

“Blood magic,” Regulus said with a feral grin at the girl…Hermione. “Would you like to know how I died, too? I can assure you, it was a much less painful experience than coming back was.”

She looked at him, brown eyes hard. “We know how you died,” she said. “Sirius said you got cold feet, and Voldemort killed you.”

Hermione took notice of the way this stranger, Regulus, flinched at his brother’s name. She filed it away for further reference… along with everything else she was noticing about the man.

“I would be careful with that name, Miss Granger,” he said now. “Names have power.”

“Not saying his name increases the fear of it,” Harry said. Hermione smiled at him, remembering Dumbledore’s words.

Regulus’ eyes narrowed. “And therein lies the problem.” Ron leaned back, raising his eyebrows as if expecting Regulus to defend his choice. Regulus ignored him, moving on to his next issue. “Can I assume that you are the Harry Potter that banished the Dark Lord the first time?” He directed his question to the dark-haired man.

“Can I assume you would have said you were under the Imperius curse, had you lived?” Harry fired back at him.

Regulus chuckled, spreading his hands. Let them think what they would. They didn’t need to know exactly how he died. They didn’t need to know how he planned on spending his second chance at a life.

He didn’t even know how he would be spending this second life.

“Did Voldemort kill you?”

“Were you in the Inner Circle?”

“Do you think he could help us?”

The last was directed toward Potter, in a hushed voice, by Hermione.

Regulus froze. Help them?

His mind jumped to the locket, still sitting on the table upstairs. “Enough with the Q and A for today,” Regulus smirked, putting a stop to the conversation. Only his eyes gave away how unsettled he had become by these children’s presence. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

The boys dismissed him as soon as he left the room, and he dismissed them just as easily. But Hermione stared at the door long after he was gone, staring and wondering who this dark-haired boy was. None of them knew anything but the bare bones about Regulus Black; most of what they knew came from the biased point of view of his brother Sirius.

Ron sighed. “Well, so much for our hide-out,” he said, moving to the window to look out. “No one out there,” he reported back. Hermione smiled, her thoughts still on the Black upstairs.

“Agh,” Harry clapped a hand to his head.

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed as Ron advanced on him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Your scar, again? But what’s going on? I thought that connection had closed!”

Regulus, standing outside the door, almost went back in to lecture on curse scars, something he was very knowledgeable about. He had spent a lot of time researching that very subject once he learned that Harry Potter was in possession of one.

Resisting the urge, Regulus turned around and loped up the stairs. The Potter boy, or man, was right behind him, having shaken off his friends with an excuse. Regulus watched him with an inscrutable gaze as he made his escape into a bathroom. Regulus stood in the doorway to his room, before going in and shutting the door.

If he was going to be sharing his house, he wanted to know who he was sharing it with. His questions would be answered, and soon, or the three who had found their way to Grimmauld Place that day would find themselves suddenly without a shelter.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hermione snuggled down in her sleeping bag, closing her eyes and listening to the murmur of Harry and Ron’s conversation. She drifted in that in between place, not awake but not asleep either.

She rolled over, unable to get entirely comfortable. She heard Harry and Ron get into their own sleeping bags, but they weren’t the ones bothering her. Even through many layers of ceilings and floors and walls, she could feel Regulus’ presence like an itch in the back of her mind that she couldn’t scratch.

She didn’t trust him. Whatever he had done to make Voldemort kill him…it wasn’t enough. He had been a Death Eater, and she couldn’t sleep knowing there was a Death Eater in what was supposed to have been their safe haven.

There was also the fact that he should have been dead. That he miraculously appeared just as they were starting the most important part of the war…that he was hiding something.

But everyone is hiding something, she thought. Everyone.

His piercing grey eyes were also added to the list of things that bothered her about him. His way of looking at you and hiding a smirk, like he knew something you didn’t.

His hair was nice too. The way it fell across those broad shoulders…

Hermione cringed and shook herself, pushing all thoughts of Regulus out of her mind. As she flipped over, one of her hands fell out of her sleeping bag.

The next moment, someone grabbed it, holding it gently, the warmth of that person’s hand warming her down to her bones.

She squinted her eyes, and saw that it was Ron. Her friend Ron, who had been a constant for almost seven years now, despite their many fights.

Hermione closed her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. The innocence of the gesture touched her. But her last thought before slipping into unconsciousness was of knowing, grey eyes, glittering at her.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next morning, Regulus wearily reclined in the chair he had occupied for so many months, forgoing his usual routine. He had had a plan, or the beginnings of one, but thanks to the advent of these people, that plan would not work.

Confronting Voldemort wouldn’t have worked anyway.

Regulus would’ve been lying if he said he hadn’t even contemplated obliviating the trio. The thought had been dismissed soon after its conception. The three obviously knew where Grimmauld Place was, and Regulus’ start of a plan relied on him having Grimmauld Place as his home base.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Everything was infinitely more complicated, thanks to this group of individuals who were _barely_ adults.

A small pop alerted him to Kreacher’s presence.

“Master?” the elf squeaked.

“What, Kreacher?” Regulus said heavily.

“The Potter boy is in Sirius’ room.”

Regulus stiffened, then stood. Despite their little conversation, he still had no idea who these people were. And he had no intention of just allowing them to poke around in his home.

Standing in one swift movement, Regulus wandlessly unlocked the door, and, shoving his wand in his pocket, headed toward his dead brother’s living space.

Regulus crossed the corridor and leaned in the doorway of Sirius’ room, squinting his eyes against all the red and gold to observe Potter, who was currently scrabbling under Sirius’ chest of drawers.

“I’m afraid to ask,” Regulus drawled, taking a step into the room. “But what are you doing?”

Potter sat up so quickly he almost knocked his head on a drawer that was open. He slowly turned and looked at Regulus. Regulus was barely able to conceal the wince that came along with seeing James Potter’s hair and face in Sirius’ bedroom.

“There’s…there’s a paper under there…”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Are you a wizard or not?” he asked. Harry belatedly checked his pockets, drawing a wand. Regulus got there first. Pointing his wand at the chest, he imagined a small scrap of paper. “Accio.”

A paper came flying out toward his hand. Harry tried to catch it, but it swerved away from his grasp. Regulus caught it with a Seeker’s reflexes, unable to suppress his smirk at the look on Potter’s face. It was too similar to how James Potter looked at him each and every time Slytherin beat Gryffindor at Quidditch. 

Regulus looked down at the picture. Speak of the devil…James Potter grinned up at him, his arm cut off on the torn edge. A small boy with hair like Potter’s zipped in and out of the picture. Regulus narrowed his eyes. “That’s you,” he mused, handing the photo to Harry.

Harry looked at the photo with something bordering on awe. Then his brow furrowed and the spell was broken. “But – where’s the rest of it?”

“The picture?” Regulus asked, flopping down on his brother’s bed. “I imagine that Severus took it, if your lovely mother was the one who was in the missing half.”

“Severus?” Harry said. “Snape was here?”

“Yes,” Regulus said, looking at the lewd muggle photographs that Sirius attached to the ceiling.

“Why?” Harry was panicking, he could tell.

“Apparently he wanted to find something of Lily’s. He always had a terrible crush on that girl…she was the reason he defected.”

“You…you knew he defected?” Harry stared at Regulus in surprise. “You knew?”

“Well, of course I knew,” Regulus said, surprised. “Severus and I were quite good friends.”

“Then I’m sure you know that the defection was a ruse,” Harry said bitterly.

“No,” Regulus said, shaking his head decidedly. “Severus was wholly on the side of the light.”

“I don’t believe it,” Harry said stubbornly.

“Why ever not?” Regulus asked, his face only betraying polite interest.

“Because he killed Dumbledore.”

“Good riddance,” Regulus said. A quiet sense of relief washed over him, knowing that he didn’t have to play chess against Dumbledore as well as the Dark Lord this time around.

When he sat up, Harry was pointing his wand at him.

“Expelliarmus.” Harry’s eyes widened as his wand flew out of his grip. “Now what is this about,” Regulus sighed, holding a wand in either hand.

“You’re a Death Eater,” Harry spat.

“Why?” Regulus questioned. “Because I don’t grieve the death of our dearly departed Dumbledore? That man was a public menace, a manipulative old coot who – “

A scream of incoherent rage came out of Harry’s mouth as he charged Regulus. Regulus didn’t move off the bed. With a flick of his wand, Harry was flung back against the chest of drawers.

Potter groaned as he sat up. He glared balefully at Regulus, who was still sitting on the bed. “Death Eater,” he mumbled.

“Ex-Death Eater,” Regulus corrected. He rolled up his left sleeve and studied the faded tattoo. “My death seems to have nullified its magic. And of course, there’s the reason I died. What was it you told me happened – I got cold feet, and the Dark Lord killed me?”

Harry stood in front of him, clenching and unclenching his fists, trembling with anger. “You – “

“Harry? Harry _! Harry!”_ A frantic voice called.

“We’re here!” Harry called, his eyes never leaving Regulus’ face. “What’s happened?”

Regulus heard someone hurrying up the stairs, and barely flinched when Hermione slammed into the room.

“We woke up and didn’t know where you were!” she panted. “Ron! I’ve found him!”

“Good! Tell him from me he’s a git!”

“Harry, don’t just disappear, please, we were terrified! Why did you come up here anyway?” She looked around the room, and jumped as she noticed Regulus staring at her. “What have you been doing?” She focused in on Regulus’ arm. “Is that…” She moved toward him, reaching out a finger to touch the Dark Mark. She jumped back when he flinched at her touch.

“Yes,” he said roughly. “That’s it. Coming back from the dead seemed to damage it a bit, though.”

“Hmmm…” Hermione seemed to be thinking about all the different possibilities and explanations for this.

“Snape was here,” Harry interrupted her train of thought.

“Oh, Harry…” Hermione said. “Did you do all this?” She looked at the mess disapprovingly.

“No, some of it was already like this,” Harry said. “Then Regulus threw me against the chest of drawers…”

“He what?” Hermione took a step back from Regulus. Harry’s expression took on a smug cast as he saw the disappointment on Regulus’ face. Regulus just quirked an eyebrow.

“He…nothing.” Harry changed his approach. “Look what I found.” Regulus couldn’t help but grin at the hasty subject change. Harry held out the paper in his hand, and the photo Regulus had retrieved. Regulus sighed, laying back on the bed and absorbing only the pertinent parts of their conversation.

“Bathilda Bagshot…Godric’s Hollow…Dumbledore…Hor – “

_Horcruxxxx…_

Regulus sat upright at that. Hermione, the one who had been speaking, looked at him nervously. Stepping away a bit, she went on in a quieter tone.

“Harry, I know you really want to go to Godric’s Hollow, but I’m scared…”

Regulus listened as Harry recounted a tale about Dumbledore, a hero the boy had obviously lost some confidence in. Regulus rolled his eyes. “And you attack me for calling him a manipulative old coot…” he muttered. Hermione glanced at him sharply, and Harry’s mouth tightened.

At the mens’ silence, Hermione sighed. “Shall we go down to the kitchen, if you’re all done up here? Find something for breakfast?”

“We’re not done here,” Harry muttered, stomping over and snatching his wand away from Regulus. Regulus merely smiled.

“I’m sure Kreacher has already made something delicious,” he said.

“Don’t be silly, Kreacher hates us…he wouldn’t make us breakfast,” Hermione said, intent on leaving Sirius’ room.

“Ah, but he always makes me breakfast,” Regulus grinned, tucking his hands in his pockets and following them.

Hermione half-turned, acknowledging him. “Of course, I forgot.”

“Understandable.” Regulus took a hand out of his pocket, and rested it on the stair rail. It glided across the smooth bannister as they began to walk down.

“Regulus,” Hermione began. She took the stairs delicately, one by one, her arms wrapped around her small frame. “Can I – Am I allowed to ask…” she paused, biting her lip.

“How I died?” Regulus supplied. “How I came back?”

They stopped walking down, and Hermione made eye contact with Regulus.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I want to know – if it’s possible…”

Her brown eyes were serious, whorls of colour still as they asked the question she couldn’t quite put words to. Regulus took a step closer to her.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how I came back.”

_Don’t you?_

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the voice away. When he opened them again, Hermione was still looking at him.

“We can help you find out,” she said. “Right, Harry – Harry?”

She turned around, but Harry hadn’t followed them. Regulus exchanged a glance with her, and they began to walk back up. They stopped at the top, Regulus leaning on a bannister and narrowing his eyes. Harry was standing in front of his bedroom door.

“What are you doing?” he snapped.

“What’s the matter?” Hermione asked, taking a few curious steps towards Harry.

“R. A. B.,” Harry replied, gazing at the sign Regulus had put on his door at fourteen, when his brother had been roaming in and out of his room too freely for his liking. “I think I’ve found him.”

Hermione rushed to Harry’s side, leaving Regulus standing at the top of the stairs, staring at the two with haunted eyes.

“Sirius’ brother!” Hermione gasped. “That fits! He was a Death Eater, he had access to Voldemort, and if he became disenchanted then he would have wanted to bring Voldemort down! It would explain how he died…”

Regulus was frozen. As soon as they had seen that sign, he had become invisible.

“Ron! RON! Get up here, quick!”

The red-headed wonder pushed past Regulus as he clomped up the stairs, wand out. “What’s up? If it’s massive spiders again, I want breakfast before I – what? Regulus Arcturus…Regulus…R. A. B.! The locket – you don’t reckon - ?”

“Let’s find out.” Harry pointed his wand at the door. “Alohamora.”

Regulus burst into action. “And just,” he purred, flipping into position to block their view into his room through his now open door. “And just what do you think you’re doing?”

The trio stared at him like they had never seen him before.

“Regulus Arcturus Black,” Hermione whispered. “R. A. B.”

“And _why_ , exactly, do those initials mean so much to you?” Regulus snarled softly.

“Horcrux,” Hermione said just as softly, just as viciously. “What does that mean to you?”

Regulus straightened up to his full height, blocking their way. “What do you know about Horcruxes?” he hissed.

“More than you.”

All of them were immobile. In a flash, Regulus sprang into motion. He swept his wand toward the boys, and flung them across the hall, so they slammed into the door to Sirius’ room.

He walked forward, backing Hermione into the wall. He gently pressed the tip of his wand into her throat. “I’ll ask again,” he said quietly. “What. Do. You. Know. About. Horcruxes.”

“More than you,” she repeated, a hitch in her breath giving away her fear. Regulus was motionless, staring at her intensely.

Ron was just coming out of the daze hitting his head had sent him into. Standing up with a roar, he charged toward Regulus, forgetting about his wand.

“Hey – hey – wait,” Harry panted, fumbling for his wand. Regulus was older, if only by a year or two, and he had gone through his seventh year at Hogwarts and whatever training Death Eaters saw fit. He and Ron wouldn’t stand a chance against the young man. So Harry did the only thing he could think of.

“Accio fake locket!”

The pretend Slytherin locket flew up the stairs from their bags and landed in Harry’s hand.

“Black!” he yelled at Regulus. “Explanation, right here.”

Regulus slowly turned his head. His eyes widened and he abruptly stepped back from Hermione, a shocked expression on his face as he looked from her to the locket.

“’Mione, are you okay?” Ron said, rushing in to wrap an arm around the wavering woman.

“I’m fine,” she said shakily, waving him off. “I’m fine.”

The three of them looked at Regulus, whose ‘better than you’ façade had slipped for the first time since they met him. He stared at the locket, and Hermione could have sworn that tears formed in his eyes.

“Where did you get that?” he whispered, grey eyes wide.

“A cave…it was in the middle of an Inferi filled lake,” Harry replied quietly.

Regulus groaned, turning and rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. “Okay,” he said after a moment, turning to face the trio who hadn’t moved in the time he had his back to them. “Okay. Let’s go…you go back down to the kitchen. I’ll meet you there in a minute. We obviously need to talk.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

They sat, Regulus alone on one side of the table, Harry and Ron across from him. Noticing the interrogation-like set up as she walked in, Hermione immediately broke it by sitting in the chair next to Regulus.

_I forgive you,_ she said mentally. Regulus looked down at his folded hands as if he expected to see shackles on them. Harry and Ron looked shocked, but Regulus barely glanced over at her.

The four of them sat there in silence for a few moments.

Regulus sighed, and slouched down in his chair. “Where to begin, where to begin,” he sighed.

“Let’s start with this,” Harry said, taking the note out of the locket and handing it to Regulus.

“To the Dark Lord - I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more… R.A.B.,” Regulus read out loud. He laughed, throwing his head back.

It was a laugh with absolutely no hilarity, no substance. Hermione watched the man, concern in her eyes.

“Are…are you alright?” she asked, laying a hand on his arm. His muscles tensed at her touch. She immediately drew back.

“Perfectly fine,” Regulus said flatly, returning to the conversation. “But I’d prefer not to have this conversation. Kreacher!”

The house elf popped into existence. “Yes, Master?” he said, bowing low.

“I’d like you to – “ Regulus started.

“Hold up!” Ron said sharply. “You said you’d answer our questions…why’d you call the house elf?”

“Because,” Regulus said, his eyes burning a hole in the table. “I’d rather not be the one to tell the story of how I died.”

In the shocked silence that followed, Regulus stood up and walked to the door. “Answer all their questions, Kreacher,” he ordered the elf. Then Regulus Black stepped out, and shut the door behind him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A cave. A lake. A house elf. A boy who was barely a man.

Regulus didn’t have to be in the room to hear the tale that Kreacher was no doubt spinning for the three innocents in the kitchen.

He remembered how, after his mother’s ritual, he woke up in his room, no cut on his arm, no blood on his clothes. The only thing that was different from the day before was Sirius’ absence. His mother announced it as if he didn’t know, saying that Sirius had run away to a family of blood-traitors. That his brother had been blasted off the tapestry, unworthy of being called a Black.

Regulus had gone into the parlor, shocked, to look at the tapestry.

He saw the smudge of blood at the bottom. And with the help of a few charms, he saw the glamour over what had been Sirius’ place on the tapestry, the glamour that made it look like Sirius was no longer on the tapestry.

Under the glamour, his brother’s name was still there.

Regulus wondered if his brother had been able to feel the connection he still had to the Ancient and Noble House of Black.

Shortly after, he had turned sixteen. On his birthday, his parents brought him into the presence of the Dark Lord.

It had been an evaluation. A test to see if the younger Black was as useless, as worthless as the elder.

A year later, he was given the Dark Mark.

Regulus never showed how scared he was. It was all bravado and bluster for his friends…only Severus, who had been a part of the Death Eaters for a year already, could see how truly frightened Regulus was.

Regulus was quiet. Many fellow Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord himself, believed that he was touched in the head for his silence, for watching emotionlessly as they had their revels, as they tortured their ‘honoured guests’.

Their imperceptive view of him worked in his favor. He heard things...a year in, he began to hear whispers, whispers of what the Dark Lord had done to become immortal.

When he was eighteen, the Dark Lord made a special request. He wanted a house elf.

Regulus volunteered Kreacher. It was an honour. A way to show the Dark Lord that despite his unwillingness to participate in some of the group’s questionable celebrations, he was still loyal.

But still, he couldn’t just let his house elf go without making sure he would come back.

He told Kreacher to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do, then to come home.

Kreacher came home shaken. Afraid. He came home with a tale of a lake, with water filled with the dead, of water that made him see terrible things.

He spoke of a locket that the Dark Lord put into a basin, before filling it back up with the terrible water.

Regulus had been intrigued. He continued to go to the meetings, not ever letting on what had happened to his house elf.

But he paid close attention. And slowly, whispers came to light…whispers of the Dark Lord’s immortality, and what dark things he had done to get it.

That scared Regulus even more than what he already saw had. A lifetime of this? His children…if he had them…

Regulus had desperately wanted a family. He had desperately wanted to build a family, to build a family better than the one he had with – with _her._ The thought that such a future might not exist, that any children he had would go through the hell he was in, was what decided him.

Not long after, Regulus had demanded Kreacher to take him to the cave.

The cave, where he died.

Regulus focused on the gentle hum of voices behind the kitchen door, cursing himself for not being the one to tell the story. But just the thought of opening his mouth and letting this story spill out of him…he could feel the terrible thirst the potion gave him, the new hell it had shown him, the chill of the water, the cold slime of the hands that grabbed him and pulled him and tore him and killed –

He was weak. If Sirius was the brave one, brave enough to leave his house, to escape, Regulus was weak, never able to say no.

Regulus slammed his fist against the wall, rage taking over as the unfairness of it all hit him. The stinging pain in his knuckles chased away the memories.

It should’ve been him who died, who brought Sirius back. Sirius deserved to live. Sirius had something to live for. His friends...his godson. Regulus didn’t have anyone. He didn’t have anything.

Strike that. He had something to live for. He had the utter, total defeat of Lord Voldemort to work towards. 

Regulus paced back in forth in the hallway outside the kitchen, back and forth and back and forth. He grew more and more agitated as he drove himself crazy wondering what they were thinking as they heard this story…what Hermione was thinking.

His thoughts were interrupted by a shriek coming from the kitchen.

“ _\- and the locket, Master Regulus’ locket, Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed in his orders!”_

No more than two seconds later, Hermione burst out of the kitchen to find Regulus, absolutely still, staring fixedly at the kitchen door.

“Regulus…” she said. He winced as he heard her tone of voice. “Reg, Kreacher’s upset…apparently, he didn’t follow orders?” Regulus, at the sound of the nickname only Severus and Sirius had called him, started, focusing on her face. She blushed. “Sorry – Regulus. It’s hard to know what to call you, you’re so young, but you were born a long time ago,” she confessed.

“You can call me whatever you’d like,” he said. The two stood in the corridor, gazing at each other.

“Hermione!” Ron yelled from inside the kitchen in a strangled voice. “Did you find Black? We need him to tame this beast!”

Hermione blushed again. Nodding at Regulus, she walked back into the kitchen. He followed to find Harry and Ron holding Kreacher down, the elf trying to punish himself by banging his head back against the floor.

“Kreacher, stop!” Regulus yelled to be heard over the elf’s screeching. The tiny creature immediately shut up, and stopped moving. Regulus motioned for Harry and Ron to get up off of him.

“Will someone _please_ tell me what’s going on?” Regulus inquired irritably. No one answered. Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. His green eyes were filled with some sort of deep sorrow. All three were doing it, looking at him as if they felt sorry for him, now that they knew what an awful, horrible, death he had.

No one answered him.

“Merlin!” he ejaculated. “I died, okay? You knew that before! How does you knowing _how_ I died change our situation? I can assure you, there are _much_ more painful deaths than drowning. I should know, I’ve _seen_ them.”

They looked away. Finally, he got an answer.

“Slytherin’s locket,” Potter said. “You told Kreacher to destroy it. He didn’t, or wasn’t able to…that’s why he’s so upset.”

Regulus swore. He swore again. And again. Hermione looked shocked. Ron looked vaguely impressed by his vocabulary. Harry was confused, then disgusted, then confused again.

“Merlin’s pants,” Regulus finished. The real locket, slipped into his pocket earlier, weighed him down. They were all still staring at him. He felt about two inches tall, but he kept his mouth resolutely shut. Just because they were sharing all of their deepest, darkest secrets with him didn’t mean he had to reciprocate. If he had learned one thing living in the Slytherin dungeons, it was that no matter what alliances you may form, you were always, _always,_ alone.

After a minute of uncomfortable silence, Hermione spoke. “We – we think it’s a horcrux.” The two other boys turned to look at the fake on the table. Regulus, however, maintained eye contact with Hermione. She could feel a blush sweeping over her face, but she refused to break the connection first. “We need the real one,” she continued, “so we can destroy it.”

“How?” Harry asked.

“Kreacher tried everything, he smashed it, he burned it…nothings worked,” the elf butted in.

“A horcrux is virtually indestructible, it’s built to fend off such small scale attacks – “

“Nothing is indestructible,” Regulus interrupted Hermione. She shot a small glare over her shoulder at him.

“I did say virtually, Regulus,” Hermione sniped. “If you’re so smart, why don’t you tell us how we can destroy it?”

“There are only a few things that can destroy a Horcrux,” Regulus began. His face was emotionless. If they knew about the locket – Horcruxes could be dangerous in the wrong hands. And while he wasn’t entirely sure his were the right ones, he definitely didn’t know these people well enough to say theirs were. “Fiendfyre…”

“And basilisk venom,” Hermione finished. “That’s how you destroyed the first, Harry.”

“The first?” Regulus questioned. Then it dawned on him. “There are more than one?” He looked horrified.

“Yeah,” Harry said, looking down. “There’s more. Dumbledore thought there were about seven.”

“Bloody hell,” Regulus swore. “And you’ve only destroyed one?”

“Two,” Potter replied. “The diary in second year, and Dumbledore destroyed a ring. If we can find the necklace, that’ll make three.”

Regulus stared at him. “Second year?”

“Yeah, and we faced Voldemort the first time in our first year.”

Regulus swore, glancing at Hermione before returning to the matter at hand. “Seven,” he mused. “Maybe that’s why he was so inhuman.” He paused. “Do you have any idea what the others are?”

“Diary, ring, locket, snake,” Hermione said, counting them off on her fingers. “That’s all we have so far. The diary and the ring, of course, have already been taken care of.”

“And Dumbledore said that he thought Voldemort was looking for things that belonged to the founders…that gives us Hufflepuff’s Cup, and Ravenclaw’s diadem.”

“Not Gryffindor’s Sword?” Regulus asked.

“No,” Harry answered. “The other two artifacts have disappeared, Slytherin’s locket we know is one, but he wasn’t able to get his hands on the sword. I’ve used it…it’s not a Horcrux.”

“So…diary, ring, locket, cup, diadem, snake…and of course, the body he’s using now. That makes six. What’s the seventh?”

Harry shook his head. “We don’t know.”

“That’s what we need to find out,” Hermione interjected. “If we miss even one, there will always be a chance he’ll come back.”

They all stood there in the circle for a solemn moment, the magnitude of their task settling in around them. Then Regulus snorted.

“Why on earth use a living animal?” He shook his head in disgust. “I suppose his brains must have been boiled, what with all the splitting he’d done.”

Harry laughed, and Regulus joined in, before they both realized what they were doing and stopped. Hermione smiled and shook her head.

“So,” Ron said uncertainly. “Does this mean he’s helping us now, then?”

“Yes,” Hermione said immediately. Then, she backtracked, turning a hopeful face upon Regulus as her statement turned into a question. “Yes?”

Regulus sighed. He could feel a sneer attempting to make its way onto his face, a habitual expression. They were all so disgustingly trusting. He forced his tense shoulders to relax as he responded.

“Yes,” Regulus said. “I am.”

In his pocket, his hand clenched around Slytherin’s locket.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . .


	5. Sulking and Brooding and Regulus (oh my)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> regulus, don't lie to hermione

Regulus holed back up in his room for the next two days, pacing and brooding. The advent of the trio and the information they brought changed everything. His partial plan was no longer viable; the Dark Lord had seven times the Horcruxes Regulus had previously believed the man had.

Seven Horcruxes. Merlin.

Regulus turned the locket around and around in his hand as he paced back and forth. He could feel the vile magic within the cursed object, and it made him want to hurl. And this was only one horcrux…he couldn’t fathom seven. Seven bloody horcruxes.

_The path to immortality…lies within the darkest of arts…horcruxxx…_

Regulus cringed as the hissing voice reared its ugly head. A guttural moan escaped him as he forced it back down, throwing the horcrux in his hand across the room. He sucked in a breath and clutched his head with both hands as it hit the wall next to the door with a loud thump. Crouched down on the floor, a pounding headache growing, Regulus wondered if he wasn’t in over his head, just a little bit. Wondered if he might just need to tell someone – anyone – about the horcrux. About the voice.

Wondered what it would feel like to have someone on his side.

Regulus’ morbid musings were interrupted by a timid knock at his door. He walked over to answer it with quick, precise steps, and opened it to find Hermione standing in the hallway uncertainly.

“Hermione,” he said in greeting. “Checking to make sure I’m still alive?”

She grimaced at his distasteful comment. “Maybe,” she said. “I was just wondering if being back from the dead meant that you didn’t have to eat.”

Regulus snorted. “I’m fine,” he said. “Kreacher brings up food.”

They shifted awkwardly there in the doorway of his room for a quick minute. Regulus leant against the door jam, observing her. Her skin was tanned, darker than his. Chocolate brown curls were at war with the hair tie she had used to pull them out of her face. Her clear brown eyes darted between him and the floor, and she hugged herself with both arms, uncomfortable with his attention.

“Er - when exactly did you come back?” Hermione asked, her brows drawing together. Regulus raised his eyebrows. He didn’t think that would be the ice breaker she’d choose.

After a moment, he sighed, throwing his head back. “Why don’t we go downstairs and check the date Sirius died?” he said, a bitter taste in his mouth.

Hermione scrunched up her face, thinking back. “But wait – that doesn’t make sense,” she said. “We didn’t see you until just last month.”

“You really think I just appeared when you saw me on the stairs?” Regulus snorted. “I thought you knew I wasn’t a ghost. Or an apparition.”

“Well, no…” Hermione was still confused.

Regulus sighed again. Moving aside, he allowed her to walk into his room.

He went to sit on the bed, watching her as her eyes roved over all his worldly possessions, pausing on his Slytherin regalia and the meticulously painted Black crest and motto behind his headboard.

“How exactly did you come back?” she asked, feigning disinterest as she ran a finger over the back of his armchair.

“Blood magic,” he said, almost no inflection in his voice. A deep exhaustion had sank into his bones, one that placed a magnifying glass over every single thing in the war.

“You said that,” she noted. “How?”

Regulus frowned. “I – don’t know – exactly,” he started haltingly.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. Clearly that explanation wasn’t satisfactory.

He rolled his eyes. “This is merely speculation,” he warned. “My mother had very high hopes for me. But…she also…she never wanted to lose me. It was – very important to her that the Black line continued. Of course, she…she discounted Sirius completely. And – well, working for the…the Dark Lord is dangerous…she wanted to make sure she could always bring me back if I died.”

“How?” Hermione moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning forward, her brown eyes fixed on his face.

He flopped back on the bed and covered his face with one of the red and gold pillows he pilfered from Sirius’ room. “Blood magic,” he repeated, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“You keep saying that,” Hermione said forcefully. “What do you mean?”

Regulus took a deep breath. He was going to tell her. He’d really tell her this time. But something – something stopped him. Something inside of him didn’t want her to know.

“’Mione!” a masculine voice called from downstairs. “Come down!”

She stayed where she was, watching Regulus.

“Your mother wanted to keep you alive at any cost,” she said slowly, putting the pieces together. “She used blood magic…blood magic…And earlier, you said…I asked when you came back, and you…you said to check when Sirius died…” Her eyes widened.

Regulus flung himself to his feet, discarding the pillow and heading to the door.

“A binding spell,” Hermione breathed behind him. “Tying you two together…”

“Hermione!” another voice shouted. Then, after a minute, and more hesitantly, “Regulus?”

“We should go downstairs,” Regulus said, looking away. “See what your boyfriends want.”

“They aren’t my boyfriends,” Hermione said distractedly, still thinking. “Regulus, if that’s what your mother did, that’s truly horrible. Was she planning on killing Sirius, if you died, just to –“

“The ginger wants to be,” Regulus interrupted, drawing her out into the hallway. “Your boyfriend, that is.”

“We’re just friends,” Hermione said, an automatic response.

“Really?” Regulus repeated, raising his eyebrows. “And that’s why you two were holding hands while you slept the first night you were here?”

Hermione snapped out of her thoughtful haze, turning those beautiful brown eyes upon him. “You…you were spying on us!” she exclaimed, shocked, as she stumbled down the stairs behind him.

“I was on my way to the kitchen, couldn’t help noticing,” Regulus said nonchalantly, putting his hands in his pockets and grinning. “And even if I were – well, it’s my house. You and your ‘friends’ are just guests.”

“You…” Hermione reached out a hand to slap him, but he swerved out of the way, and, still grinning, made his way over to where the boys were waiting.

“Well, boys,” Regulus said, spreading his arms. “We’re here. How can I help you?”

“That conversation is not over,” Hermione growled into his ear, grabbing his arm to get high enough.

Regulus looked down at her. “Which one?”

Hermione snarled at him. He hissed back jokingly. The pair of boys that had been waiting looked at them bemusedly.

“We – we just wanted to tell you that we have some visitors,” Harry finally said.

“No, we don’t,” Regulus said dismissively. Harry raised an eyebrow. “I would have felt the wards be breached.”

Hermione nodded in understanding.

“They’re not exactly that close,” Ron said, pointing out the window. There, a healthy distance away, were two Death Eaters, fixedly staring toward where they believed the house to be.

Regulus moved closer to the window, pulling the drapes out a bit. “Rowle,” he said, pointing to the one on the right. “And Crabbe.”

“How can you tell?” Harry asked curiously.

“Rowle always stands as if he’s got a stick up his arse,” Regulus said, “keeping his spine straight.”

He pointed to the other figure. “And when Crabbe stands still, he takes on the ‘at ease’ position of a soldier, legs spread wide. But if he stands long enough, he starts to slouch.”

The boys stared at him in shock. “How – you – did you call them here?!” Ron exploded. He turned to Harry and Hermione, righteous anger written all over his face. “He’s selling us out!”

“Really?” Regulus drawled. “Does that red hair interfere with your brain, or did you not stop to think about whether or not I had reasons to do that?”

“Ron does bring up a good point,” Harry said, looking at Regulus. “If you didn’t call them with your…” he paused, and drew a hand up his left forearm, “Then how did they know we were here?”

“Well, they probably know you own the house, Harry,” Hermione reasoned. “After all, wills are examined by the Ministry, remember they dealt with Dumbledore’s.”

“He doesn’t own the house,” Regulus said, looking at the three of them as if they were crazy. “I do.”

“No…” Harry said slowly. “I do. Sirius left it to me in his will. He was my godfather.”

“And how did you test that?” Regulus asked, standing up straight, his eyes flashing.

“Kreacher…” Harry began, then stopped, his eyes widening. “Dumbledore tried to get me to give Kreacher an order, but before I could, he said…he said…”

_Kreacher won’t be kept from his master…he won’t, he won’t!_

“But Sirius left it to me,” Harry said stubbornly.

“And I’m sure dear old Dumbles explained how that was possible,” Regulus said deprecatingly.

Harry shook his head, his full attention on Regulus. Regulus sighed. His throat was getting dry with all the sighing he was doing lately. An involuntary reaction to the absolute ignorance of his new house guests. “Of course he didn’t,” he muttered.

Before Harry could go off on another predictable tangent about how very _good_ and wise Albus Dumbledore was, Regulus turned his back.

“Today’s lecture,” he began mockingly, conjuring up a blackboard, “will be on Wizarding Inheritance.” As he spoke, the words were scrawled in an elegant script on the board.

Hermione folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop it,” she said, casting a finite on Regulus’ blackboard.

“Hey!” he cried out, whipping around to face her. The four of them stood in an almost perfect square.

“Just tell us what you know,” Ron said, trying to be menacing.

“Shall I use small words?” Regulus asked, barely sparing a glance for the ginger blockhead.

Hermione glared at the young man. Catching her eyes, Regulus sobered, and began for real.

“Sirius was the Black heir, to keep our ‘Ancient and Noble’ house alive. _However_ , if he died with no heirs, then I was the Black heir, and if I were dead, it would go to my son.”

“Sirius named me as his heir, though,” Harry interrupted. “So how come this isn’t my house?”

“Because I’m alive,” Regulus answered, grinning sharply. “If you were actually Sirius’ son, then yes, the house would go to you. But, the house is only entailed upon you, therefore since I’m alive, the house belongs to me.”

“I still don’t understand,” Ron said.

“I’m not surprised,” Regulus said dryly.

Hermione slapped him. “Be nice.”

Regulus shrugged. “You want nice, go for a Hufflepuff. Slytherins say it like it is.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Regulus was sitting in one of his mother’s elaborate wingback chairs in the drawing room, staring into the fire as Hermione read a book and Ron played with a tool that sucked all the light from the room.

“So, Black,” Harry said awkwardly, leaning against a desk. Regulus barely twitched. “I get the feeling you don’t like Dumbledore,” he continued.

“You don’t say,” Regulus said.

“Why not?” Harry said bluntly. “He was an amazing man, a hero.”

“Was he?”

“Yes,” Harry said firmly. “He defeated Gellert Grindewald, and he did his best to hinder Lord Voldemort’s rise to power.”

“And yet, here we are, sitting and doing nothing in a hidden manor, because the Dark Lord is in power.”

“Are you saying all the work he did was for nothing?”

“Yes,” Regulus said sharply, turning to face Harry. Ron didn’t flinch, but Hermione was drawn out of her book by his tone. “His work was for nothing, because now he’s _dead_ , leaving some _children_ to finish the job.”

“We’re not children!” Hermione exclaimed, blushing indignantly.

“True, true,” Regulus said. “Were you three ever children at all? You said you faced the Dark Lord for the first time in your first year. Did Dumbledore do anything to prevent that from happening?” Harry stood, shocked into silence. “Or did he aid and abet you? Do anything to help you understand enough to go after the Dark Lord?”

The three of them were silent, Regulus’ words digging into their heads deeply, adding doubt to their memories of the old man.

“He was friends with Grindewald, once,” Regulus added, quieter. “ _Very_ good friends. I wouldn’t be surprised if that soon came to light, given who is in power now.”

The three friends sat in silence, staring at the man who had been an interloper, who was slowly becoming a part of their group.

Shaking herself, Hermione returned to her book. Ron returned to his light-extinguisher.

“If we could now return to the topic we were discussing a few days ago,” Regulus said, drawing their attention yet again. “We need to form a plan of attack.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, wide-eyed.

“You didn’t think that we could just sit in my manor and wait for the Horcruxes to come to us, did you?” Regulus asked incredulously.

Harry swallowed, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Merlin, who put you in charge of this endeavor?” Regulus shook his head.

“Dumbledore,” Hermione said quietly.

“Of course,” Regulus sighed.

“Well, we were sort of – kind of – maybe – waiting for the locket?” Harry told the group uncertainly.

Regulus nodded, conceding the point. The four of them sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Kreacher,” Hermione said suddenly. “Kreacher hoarded all sorts of things when we were cleaning the house, remember the stuff he would steal away? What if the locket was one of those things?”

Ron jumped out of his seat, grinning broadly, and Harry stood up straighter, reanimated. Regulus slouched. The locket had been one of those hoarded items. He knew exactly where it was now.

“Hermione, you’re a genius!” Ron exclaimed.

“A genius indeed,” Regulus agreed.

Hermione blushed. “Well, call Kreacher, Regulus!”

Regulus’ gaze slid from face to face. Each of them were bright with hope. He shook his head. Trust or half-trust, the truth would be coming out soon. “Kreacher!”

The elf popped into existence in the middle of their little circle. “Master called?” the elf croaked.

“Kreacher, where is the necklace I told you to destroy?”

Kreacher’s tiny body trembled, and the elf turned purple with the effort not to speak. “Gone!!” he finally wailed, rushing toward the wall with the fire poker.

“Gone?” Harry asked blankly. “What do you mean, gone?”

“The sneak-thief took it!” Kreacher blubbered in between beats of the poker. “Kreacher is a bad elf, a bad elf, he didn’t tell his master in time!”

Regulus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Regulus?” Hermione asked tentatively. “What does he mean?”

“I felt Fletcher breach the wards,” Regulus said. “Assumed it was one of your lot. I ignored it, and the only reason more of the Black heirlooms aren’t missing is because Kreacher came and got me. I suppose he got me too late, and Fletcher got more than a couple goblets.”

“Kreacher is sorry, it won’t happen again, Kreacher is a bad elf...”

The house elf kept moaning in the background as Hermione, Harry, and Ron shouted over the elf’s voice, trying to agree upon a plan of attack. Regulus, meanwhile, forced his brain to work through all of the distractions.

“Be quiet!” he yelled after a few minutes, a headache growing. “Kreacher,” he said, kneeling down to the elf’s height and stopping him from beating himself up more. “Kreacher, you are not a bad elf. You did exactly as you were supposed to. Understand?”

Kreacher nodded, gulping.

“You are dismissed, Kreacher,” Regulus said, a glint in his eyes.

The elf bowed low as he popped out of existence, and the excitement in the air defused.

Regulus was still crouching, looking at the place where Kreacher had been.

“Now what?” Ron asked, all three of them still standing.

“I – I don’t know,” Harry stammered. “Maybe – we try to track down Mundungus?”

“And where do you suppose we start with that?”

“I don’t know, Azkaban??!?”

As the two boys bickered, Hermione moved to Regulus. Hesitantly, she laid a hand on his back. “Regulus?” she whispered. “Are you okay?”

Sinuously he stood and drew himself up to his full height. There was a look in his eyes that Hermione couldn’t read. It was as if he had slammed a wall down between him and the rest of the world.

“There will be no need to go looking for Fletcher,” he said in a stone cold voice. His hands were in his pockets. One was holding the locket. The other grasped his wand. He could feel magical power flaring in his body as he prepared for their reactions.

“Really?” Hermione asked. “Then how do you suppose we’ll locate the necklace?”

“I know where it is.”

“What?”

“Where?”

“What do you mean, you know where it is?”

“And you didn’t think that’s something that we needed to know??”

Regulus turned his back on them, leaning on the fireplace mantle. “I didn’t know you,” he said softly. “And as you might have noticed, I’m not of the disposition to go blindly trusting people with secrets. Especially a secret such as a horcrux.”

He felt, rather than saw, Hermione pull away from him. “So – we’re idiots, then?” she asked, affronted. “For trusting you?”

“No.” He turned around, pressing his back to the mantle. “You’re just Gryffindors.”

Harry’s face contorted in confusion. “You know – That feels like an insult.”

Ron reddened with anger. “It’s not, Harry. HE’s just jealous-”

“Merlin, Ron, if you finish that sentence I might die of laughter,” Hermione snarled. Her posture was tense; so many revelations in such a little amount of time had added what felt like a lifetime of strain to her.

Only Harry seemed to have maintained his composure. “Regulus – are you telling us now because you feel you have to, or because you trust us?”

Grey eyes met serious green. Regulus nodded to Harry. “A little bit of both.”

“Get the locket,” Hermione demanded. Any warmth in those brown eyes that might’ve once been directed towards Regulus was gone, all traces erased.

“Hold up,” Harry said, hands up. “We have the locket – well, at least one of us knows where it is. That’s what matters. I think we should let Regulus keep it safe, until we have a way to destroy it.”

“Are you joking?” Ron yelled. “He’s been hiding it from us this whole time!”

“For good reason!” Hermione countered, coming to Regulus’ defense. “Would you give away something like that for free to strangers who invade your home?”

Regulus rubbed his temples. He was getting whiplash trying to keep up with the conversation, and just _what_ Hermione’s opinion of him was. It seemed to vary from moment to moment.

“Of course you’re on his side,” Ron grumbled.

“I am NOT,” Hermione hissed. She whipped out her wand and pointed it at Ron.

“Hermione,” Regulus started.

“No,” she snapped. “You kept this from me. From all of us! And why? Because your poor little Slytherin, back from the dead arse couldn’t get over its trust issues long enough to realize that _we’re_ the good guys? We’re the good guys, Reg!” She was no longer pointing her wand at anyone as she advanced on Regulus. Her chocolate brown eyes gazed pleadingly up into his grey ones. He felt his shoulders tense up at her disappointed gaze. So much like – like – “Why can’t you trust me?”

“What, I suppose we’re chopped liver?” Ron muttered under his breath. That was all it took to set her off again.

“Ronald Weasley – “

“All right,” Harry intervened as Ron started patting down his pockets for his own wand. He nodded at Regulus, and the two of them stepped in between the pair of would-be duelists. Hermione, seeing Regulus block her target, glared at him furiously.

“You!” she cried. “Don’t think you’re off the hook. Do you know how much _easier_ it would’ve been, on _all_ of us, if you had just _told_ us you had the locket when we first started discussing horcruxes???”

Regulus backed away, his hands in the air. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I do realise.”

Harry and Ron, realizing that a conflict between Ron and Hermione was no longer the greatest threat, relaxed a bit. They moved warily away from Regulus.

Hermione’s hair was crackling with magical energy. “I…you know what, I don’t have anything to say to you.” She took a breath which seemed to immediately calm her. Shaking herself, she looked him in the eye. “I’m not saying I don’t understand where you’re coming from, because I do. But…I thought…” She sighed, and shook her head. “I don’t know what I thought.”

The men watched tensely as she turned and walked out of the room. “I’ll be in the kitchen if anyone needs anything _important_ ,” she called over her shoulder.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Avoidance was the coin of the realm these days in 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry and Ron had laid claim to the sitting room, listening to the wireless and doing heaven knows what. Hermione had holed up in the library, taking refuge in her books. And Regulus was back in his room, sitting in that too-imposing chair, staring out at the dreary London weather.

He hadn’t seen any of his uninvited guests in the past week. Back in the slump he had fallen into after his return from the grave, Regulus couldn’t see a way out. He leaned his head against the back of the chair, exposing his neck. He groaned as yet another pounding headache made itself known.

These headaches had been coming and going with increasing frequency the past few days. It felt as if all of the magical power in his body, and then some, was relocating itself to his head. Sometimes, it was accompanied by the voice. Sometimes he could force it back down by strength of will.

Thankfully, this was one of those times. Regulus regulated his breathing, and pictured a wave of magic flowing out of his brain, down his spinal cord, into his arms and legs, spreading itself evenly throughout his body until all of the aches and pains were gone. He sighed in relief as the pain disappeared.

A knock on the door quickly made that relief disappear. Not hide nor hair of any of the other three in a week, and now someone was knocking on his door?

Regulus didn’t even bother to pull himself out of his chair to answer. With a flick of his wand, he unlocked it, and it swung open.

“Um…Regulus?” It was Harry. Regulus didn’t even try to understand the disappointment that swept over him at the sound of the younger man’s voice.

“What do you want?”

Regulus heard hesitant footfalls as Potter made his way into the room. Slowly, so as not to frighten Regulus away, Harry crept around the armchair to lean against the window. For a moment or two, he just stood there, taking in the sight of the man.

Regulus hadn’t shaved in over a week, and hadn’t slept either, it appeared. He resembled an aged Sirius so much that the breath caught in the back of Harry’s throat. Clearing it, he began to speak.

“You and Hermione need to kiss and make up.” Slowly, Regulus’ grey gaze rolled over to rest on Harry. Regulus raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, Harry recognized the man who had begrudgingly allowed Harry into his home.

“Do we now,” Regulus drawled. “Look, I don’t particularly care what the lovely Miss Hermione thinks of me. And I don’t particularly care about your little quest either, anymore. I’ll hand over the locket when you’ve found a way to destroy it. You can stay in my house as long as you like. Problem solved. I don’t see what Hermione has to do with it.”

“No,” Harry said stubbornly. “You need to make up with Hermione. We make a good team, Regulus. You can’t just throw that away because you hid something from Hermione and she blew up when she found out. Trust me, if Ron or I ever did that, we’d be dead many times over.”

Regulus just looked at him.

Harry sighed, running a hand through already messy hair. “Look, Ron and I have made up with her. She’s spent the past week reading up on horcruxes, and we’re hoping she might’ve found a lead. You are our missing link, Regulus. We need you. So, I don’t care if I have to drag you down there, but you have to solve the issue between you and Hermione. You have until the end of the day.”

Regulus chuckled. “Or what? You’ll throw me out of my own house?”

Harry met his gaze evenly. “Or we’ll leave,” he said firmly. “We’ll leave to fight Voldemort without you.”

With that, Harry left.

Regulus stared blankly out of the window for a few moments. Then, he stood up.

“Dammit,” he cursed, remembering another Potter man who had seen through him just as easily as the current one had. Grabbing his wand, he prepared to find Hermione. “Dammit.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hermione had been in the library for days. Days. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept – was it yesterday? No…yesterday she had told Harry she would sleep but then she uncovered that old diary and it mentioned horcruxes vaguely in a less concise form in passing and she had to follow that lead because the Blacks were all maniacs (even Regulus, yes, even Regulus, with his piercing grey eyes and perfect gorgeous hair and tortured past…) and they _would_ be the ones to dabble in horcruxes, hell, maybe Voldemort first heard of horcruxes from them, then she stumbled upon a reference that that blasted veil in the Department of Mysteries and some witchy mumbo jumbo about communing with the dead and that logically couldn’t make sense at all but if you want immortality…

“Hermione.”

Her head snapped up with a gasp, and she gazed blindly at Regulus.

His brow furrowed with concern, and he unceremoniously swept the books off of the chair next to her and sat down. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he tried again. “Hermione?”

The girl shuddered, and then seemed to come out of her daze. Catching sight of Regulus, her face hardened. “Oh, it’s you.”

Regulus quickly withdrew. “It’s me,” he said warily.

Hermione snorted. “Scared, now that Harry’s not here to protect you?”

Regulus laughed. “Please. I can protect myself.”

Hermione’s eyes darted towards her wand. “Can you.” It was a statement, not a question. Regulus followed her gaze to her wand, and cleared his throat.

“I wouldn’t – um – attack me, if I were you.” He cringed at the pathetic bravado in his words. Hermione raised an eyebrow. “My magic has been…unpredictable…since I returned,” he explained haltingly.

Hermione sighed. “I’m not going to attack you, Regulus.”

A tension he hadn’t been aware of between his shoulder blades released. “Good,” he said. “Yes. That’s - that’s good.”

“What do you want, Regulus?”

Her unwavering brown stare unnerved him, and he shifted in his seat. Her fatigue was affecting her; dark circles hovered under her eyes, her skin was waxen, and her hair flew out around her at all sides.

“Harry thinks we should make up,” he said abruptly. Hermione looked at him blankly. “He thinks we make a good team?” Regulus tried.

A whoosh of air left Hermione’s lungs, and she plonked an elbow on the table. Supporting her chin on her hand, she spoke. “And what do you think?”

_I think Harry’s right, I think I don’t matter in most of your plans, I know I couldn’t stand being left behind if you went off hunting Voldemort without me..._

“I think he’s right.”

Hermione slowly shook her head. Her entire body was shaking, and Regulus could see, to his dismay, tears were forming in her eyes. “You know, I trusted you,” she said. A sort of desperation bled through her words. “I thought we were on the same side. I thought you were helping us, I thought, I thought I thought!” Her words ended in a scream. Electricity crackled off the tips of her hair, and she ran her hands through it, mussing it even more than it already was. Regulus didn’t move a muscle. “I don’t know what I thought, but you lied, or no, you _hid,_ and that’s worse! Because I trusted you, and you, you didn’t trust me…”

Regulus gingerly held out a hand, and placed it on her arm. “Hermione…when was the last time you slept?”

Those words broke the dam that was holding her tears back, and she collapsed in a pile of sobs. “I don’t know,” she cried.

“Merlin,” Regulus swore, reaching forward and drawing her into his arms. “Hermione…we need you to sleep more than we need you to research…” She was feather light. “We need you to sleep, we need you to eat…”

“You lied,” Hermione hiccupped, a dog with a bone.

Regulus exhaled. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he breathed. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Please don’t ever hide anything from me again,” she sniffled into his shirt. “Promise.”

“I promise,” he said hoarsely. Pushing her into a sitting position, he held both her hands in his and looked her in the eye. “I swear on my life, I will never withhold any truth from you.”

Hermione smiled weakly. “On your life?”

Regulus smiled and shrugged with one shoulder. “I’d swear by the moon, but – “

“Swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon…” Hermione laughed waterily and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Soon, her face hidden behind her sleeve, her laughs sounded more like sobs. Regulus felt a twinge in his heart.

“Oh, sweetheart…” He pulled her into his arms and held her. After a few moments, her breathing evened. He lifted her chin up so he could see her tear-streaked face. “I swore,” he said seriously. “Now will you go take a nap?”

A crackling giggle came out of her throat. “God, we’re a mess.”

Regulus laughed, standing up and sweeping her into his arms. “You nap, I’ll shave.”

With that, he marched out of the room, leaving the books behind.

As he climbed the stairs, he saw Harry and Ron peering out from the sitting room. Harry, jaw clenched, nodded at him, all his concerned attention focused on the girl in Regulus’ arms.

“You got her to leave the library,” he noticed. Regulus paused, and looked down at the exhausted girl in his arms. Her eyes were closed, and she was obviously on the brink of sleep. He bet she was still awake and listening, if barely.

“Sod off, Harry,” Hermione mumbled, waving her arm vaguely in Harry’s direction. Regulus smirked.

Harry grinned back. “G’night, Hermione. Regulus.”

Regulus nodded at him. “Good night.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Fifteen minutes later, Regulus sat on Hermione’s bed, looking down at her. Despite how hard she had fought him, making it incredibly difficult to brush her hair even though she insisted on doing it before she slept, she appeared a perfect angel when asleep.

Regulus reached out hesitantly, and his hand ever so gently brushed her cheek. Suddenly, it wasn’t Hermione he was gazing upon, but someone else.

_Regulus reached out hesitantly, holding her blue eyes with his own, and his hand ever so gently brushed her cheek. Her head ducked down and she leaned into his touch, even as her cheeks reddened._

_Regulus smiled. “May I see you again?”_

_Her head snapped back up again at that, and a sly smile curved her lips as she stepped back, away from his reach._

_“I would like that very much,” she said. Her posture became perfect, and a cool mask smoothly fell down into place. Regulus was reminded that for all that her family idolized Albus Dumbledore, they were still purebloods._

_He gave a short bow. “Until we meet again, Miss McKinnon.”_

Regulus surfaced from his flashback with a jolt, taking short, shuddering breaths as he drew his hand away from Hermione’s cheek. Slowly, he got up from the bed, and walked toward the door. He opened it, and was just about to leave when a small voice called him back.

“Regulus?”

He looked back to the bed. Hermione’s eyes were open, and she blearily gazed at him. “Good night?”

A cool mask smoothly fell into place, and Regulus painted a smile on his lips. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Good night, Miss Granger.”

Walking out of Hermione’s room, Regulus was stopped by Harry. The other man had obviously been waiting outside her door, too polite to enter but too worried to leave.

Regulus stared at him blankly as Harry appeared to wait for him to spontaneously burst into an explanation.

Regulus broke first. “What do you want, Potter?”

“Is she all right?”

Regulus shrugged. “As right as she could be, considering she hasn’t slept in the past forty-eight hours at the least and appears to have only eaten a slice of toast a day and a half ago.”

Harry groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Dammit,” he swore. “This is my fault. I’m not supposed to let her go…”

“This has happened before?”

Harry sighed, meeting Regulus’ eyes. “Every once and a while. So infrequently, I forget to pay attention…”

Regulus broke eye contact, and began walking down the hall again. “You don’t need to,” he said to the man he left behind him. “I’ll take care of her.”

Staring after him, Harry shook his head.

“Hermione,” he muttered to himself. “What are you doing?”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	6. More Visitors, Wolfish and Greasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> remus lupin + regulus black = bad memories resurfacing

Despite Regulus and Hermione’s reconciliation, tension was running high after the former’s revelation. As a group, they had made the decision to hold off on more planning until everyone was well rested enough to logically make plans without accusation.

They were all in the drawing room once more, Regulus in his chair with the others arranged around the room. Hermione had an old book of children’s tales out, trying to read by the light of the fire as Ron kept using a small device to turn the other lights on and off.

Every so often, she’d look up from her book and catch Regulus’ eye. In those moments, Regulus could swear there was something tangible between them, an electric current flowing both ways. Giving him strength to fight off the enormous headache he had.

After the tenth flicker of the lights, accompanied by two clicks of Ron’s extinguisher, Hermione exploded.

“Will you stop it!”

“Sorry, sorry! I don’t know I’m doing it!”

“Well, can’t you find something useful to occupy yourself?”

“What, like reading kids’ stories?”

“Dumbledore left me this book, Ron – “

“ – and he left me the Deluminator, maybe I’m supposed to use it!”

Harry stormed out of the room, leaving Regulus to listen to the bickering pair. A Deluminator, he mused. He’d never heard of it before. Something new, and from Dumbledore.

A hot flash swept over his body.

_Et sanguis meus quia ego eieci te de hac tum praetoria nave…praetoria…NAVE…_

Regulus shook with the effort of forcing the voice down. This time, it was accompanied by a surge of magic. He felt as if his head were being torn apart.

“Aaughhhh…”

“Regulus, are you all right?”

Hermione interrupted Ron’s tangent. Regulus was sitting in his chair, clutching his head. Ron stopped speaking, his mouth open, eyes wide as he watched the spectacle.

Hermione hurried to Regulus’ side. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Regulus? Regulus!”

His head shot up suddenly. Hermione, startled, drew back. There was a black cast to his eyes that she had never seen before; a black fire swirling around inside of them. Even as she watched, the fire diminished until all that was left was Regulus’ grey.

“Quiet!” he barked. Ron and Hermione exchanged confused glances. Neither of them had spoken a word.

“Regulus?” Hermione asked.

“Somebody’s here,” he said, jumping out of the chair and drawing his wand. Hermione and Ron did the same, then the three of them headed for the main hall. Hermione and Ron immediately rushed toward Harry, while Regulus stayed in the shadows, examining the man who was standing in the doorway.

“Don’t move!”

Regulus shrank back into the shadows even more as his mother’s portrait awakened, and added her howling hysteria to the already tense moment.

_Idiot…_

He flinched at the voice and took a deep breath, suppressing the overpowering magic once again.

“Hold your fire, it’s me, Remus!”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Hermione shut the curtains to his mother’s portrait, allowing Regulus to think.

Lupin. One of Sirius’ merry band of idiots. Oh yes, Regulus remembered Remus Lupin. This was going to be fun.

Suddenly, silence reigned over the entryway. Lupin’s good-natured conversation had stopped short at his last sentence.

“Someone’s here!” The man was sniffing the air like an animal.

Regulus strolled out of the shadows, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. It felt like just yesterday he was being discovered by Hermione Granger and her cohorts.

“Expelliarmus,” Regulus said, lazily catching the man’s wand. “All right, gentlemen and lady, we have a decision to make.” He grinned manically. “Obliviate, keep, or kill?”

He aimed his wand at the stranger’s chest.

None of them moved as they all stared at Regulus’ wand, leveled at Remus.

“Do I have to decide on my own?” Regulus snarled, wand hand steady. 

“Keep!” Harry yelled, breaking the silence they had all been in before turning a horrified gaze to Regulus. The man shrugged indifferently.

“Keep,” Ron said, glancing between Regulus’ wand and Lupin.

Hermione was silent, eyes darting between the four men in the room. There was something – Regulus knew Lupin. And he didn’t trust him. Something was off.

“Hermione?” Regulus prompted. Everyone’s eyes turned to her, Harry and Ron’s gazes pleading with her to say something to diffuse Regulus. To tame him with words, make him lower his wand.

“Keep,” was all she said, uncertainly, as if she had just answered a question there was no right answer to.

Harry, Ron, and Remus breathed a sigh of relief. Regulus didn’t even blink as he continued on.

“Well, we’re at a bit of a standstill, seeing how killing the man sort of negates the whole keeping bit.” He scowled before smoothing out his expression. Regulus lowered his wand, pocketing both his wand and Lupin’s. Harry and Ron relaxed as the supposed threat was put away.

Regulus and Remus stared at each other, the trio standing between the two.

“I want my wand back,” Lupin growled, glaring at the younger man.

“No,” Regulus said. “Dogs don’t get wands.”

Remus growled, an even deeper sound, and stalked toward Regulus until the two men were nose to nose.

“How did you know about…that?” Hermione asked. Neither man moved or acknowledged her. She sighed, and took her wand out again. Wedging herself in between the two, she cast a protego that sent Remus flying back a few steps, leaving her pressed up against Regulus.

“Do I need to take this?” he murmured in her ear, reaching around her and running a finger down her wand. His words were barely audible, but the intent was clear.

“No,” she said quickly, twisting out of his arms and blushing furiously. Ron immediately moved to stand next to her, pulling her even farther away from Regulus.

“How about we settle this the way we’ve done in the past?” Harry said warily. “Tea in the kitchen?”

“Sounds lovely. Why don’t you be the one to make it?” Harry looked at Regulus, unsure of whether that was an insult or sound reasoning. Sensing his thoughts, Regulus elaborated. “Kreacher’s out, and you’re the only one out of all of us who isn’t shite at making tea.” Harry nodded, and the two were reaching a peace when Regulus continued on. “Of course, I’m not making assumptions of _your_ tea-making skills, _Moony_.”

“How do you know about _that?_ ” Hermione exclaimed again.

“How, how, how…” Regulus smirked, rolling his eyes. “Question of the day. Let’s head into the kitchen, everyone.”

Hermione went first, Ron following her, aiming a glare at Regulus before placing a hand on Hermione’s back. Regulus’ eyes narrowed, and the burning sensation he had felt upon learning the war continued, upon seeing Fletcher stealing, returned. He blinked, trying to force the flame down. Once they were in the kitchen, Hermione shook her friend’s hand off of her back.

Seeing that didn’t even start to douse the flames that were crawling through Regulus’ veins. 

Harry followed his friends, and it was soon it just Remus and Regulus left in the hallway. Remus postured, trying to look threatening. Regulus refused to acknowledge him, his eyes boring a hole in the wall as he attempted to control the magical power that surged within him.

“Hey,” Hermione said, peeking out of the kitchen. “Are you coming? Harry’s started the kettle.”

“After you,” Regulus said in a strangled tone, sweeping his hand toward the kitchen. Remus snarled, seeing his wand in Regulus’ hand, but, however unhappy he was about it, stalked into the kitchen.

As the werewolf stalked past her, Hermione slipped out of the kitchen, worried.

“Regulus?” she said tentatively. “Are you okay?”

A powerful witch herself, Hermione could practically taste the magic that was radiating off of Regulus as his hands shook.

“Fine,” Regulus said. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. A soft touch at his hand surprised him. He looked down to see Hermione’s small hand in his own.

“I heard you, the other day,” she said quietly. Regulus stiffened. “You take care of me, I’ll take care of you, okay?”

“That’s – really – not necessary,” he said in a strangled voice. The pounding in his head refused to let up and he could barely think.

“Let’s go in, yeah?” she said, worried eyes watching him even as she smiled.

“Yeah,” Regulus nodded breathlessly. “Yeah.”

The pair walked into the kitchen.

Her touch was calming him. He might’ve liked to hold her hand a little longer. But as soon as they entered the kitchen, he dropped the woman’s hand like a hot plate.

He could already hear Ron yelling at him, Harry looking at him, bewildered but protective of the woman. He could hear his brother screaming at him as he held the hand of another Gryffindor lioness, long ago.

They separated, Regulus staying by the door and Hermione heading toward a seat.

In the kitchen, Harry passed out the tea and sat down with Remus, Harry, and Ron. Regulus declined Hermione’s unspoken invitation to sit, instead choosing to lean up against the door and listen as they carried out a hushed conversation.

“No sign of Severus, then?” Remus started.

“No, but _he,_ ” Harry jerked his head toward Regulus, who raised his cup to the quartet, “says Snape stopped by for a visit before us.” He sighed, then moved on. “What’s going on? Is everyone OK?”

Regulus cataloged every single thing the werewolf told them, while feigning disinterest. He only spoke when he heard something of importance coming up…how the three had chosen Grimmauld Place.

“We wondered whether Harry could still have the Trace on him?”

“No,” Regulus said, interrupting Remus as he opened his mouth to respond.

“As I was going to say, that’s impossible,” Remus said, gritting his teeth.

“But I’m sure you don’t know why,” Regulus smoothly interrupted Lupin again. He hated the half breed on a good day, and today, with the voice in his head and fire in his veins, was not a good day. The werewolf clenched his fists, glaring darkly at the unexpected fourth the trio had.

“Do enlighten us,” he said through his teeth.

“Very well,” Regulus said, sliding off the wall, twirling Remus’ wand in one hand. “Should I bring out the blackboard again, Hermione?”

“No,” Hermione replied. “And you can use large words this time. Remus is a smart boy.” She sat ramrod straight, hands in her lap. Regulus smirked as he turned his back to the group. The little lioness had fire, and dropping her hand seemed to have pissed her off quite a bit.

Remus glanced at Hermione incredulously. She leaned back in her chair, watching Regulus, and playing his game of wits too, it seemed. Remus shuddered at the change in the girl, so unexpected. He looked at Harry and Ron to see if they had noticed, but either they hadn’t, or they took it in stride.

“Voldemort,” Regulus began, capturing their attention with one word, a word they had never heard him say before. “The Dark Lord. You may think he’s a mindless monster, but there still is some cunning left in him, and he will stop at nothing to be able to kill the one threat to his immortality.” As they gazed at him, Regulus paused. He leaned toward Harry. “That’s you, Potter,” he informed him in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry said ungraciously. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, lucky you have me,” Regulus said sarcastically before continuing on. “Now, as you said when you met me, Potter, ‘not saying his name increases the fear of it’. Such a Dumbledore thing to say. Would I be correct in guessing that you got that from the old coot?”

Harry nodded sullenly, and Regulus moved on with his lecture.

“However noble, it was useless. Did nothing to stop the noseless wonder, as you well know. _However_ , shortly before my _death_ …” Regulus grinned at the discomfort the four showed on their faces. “the Dark Lord found a way to use this ‘fearlessness’ to his advantage. To my knowledge, it wasn’t implemented during the first war, as he needed control over the Ministry first. Once I learned that he had taken control of the Ministry this time around, I assumed that he put that system to use. Good for flushing out Order members, who are still loyal to the memory of Albus Dumbledore. If you used the word in Tottenham Court Road, then that’s probably the reason the Death Eaters found you. Not the trace,” he concluded, stepping back to stand against the door again.

Remus looked disturbed. Ron looked confused. Hermione looked as if she were working out a very complicated Arithmancy problem in her head.

“But…you just said his name,” Ron said, brow furrowed. “How do we know that Death Eaters aren’t on their way right now?”

“Fidelius Charm,” Regulus said, pointing toward the roof. “Plus a bunch of other nasty spells that my father put up to hide this place.”

“What – “ Hermione started, looking intrigued.

“Don’t ask,” Regulus said, looking away.

Harry processed Regulus’ imparted knowledge, then set that information aside to mull over later.

“Tell us what happened after we left, we haven’t heard a thing since Ron’s dad told us the family were safe.”

“Well…” Remus began to answer.

Regulus rolled his eyes and, grabbing one of two copies of the Prophet, left, unnoticed by the boys. He hadn’t expected thanks, but still…they had to realise how useful it could be to have an ex-Death Eater on their side.

Hermione watched him go, eyes narrowed, still thinking at a million miles per second.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Here,” Remus said, shoving his own copy of the Prophet toward Harry.

His own face, scruffy and amoral, glared up at him.

WANTED FOR QUESTIONING ABOUT THE DEATH OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

“No,” Harry said. His picture and the caption were like a train wreck he couldn’t look away from. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no…”

Hermione and Ron were talking over each other, both shouting at the injustice.

Harry pushed back his chair, ignoring the awful scraping noise it made, and stood up, still staring at the picture of him on the front page of the newspaper.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Remus said, but Harry was gone, rushing up the stairs.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Regulus eased himself into the wingback chair in front of the window, and gazed out at the view he had watched for so long when he first arrived.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Regulus slowly returned his breathing to normal, attempting to remember the relaxation techniques that _she_ had taught him so long ago. As he breathed the tingling feeling in his body died down and the metallic taste of magic slowly left his mouth.

Sighing with relief, he tore his eyes away from the window and snatched his copy of the Daily Prophet off the ground.

He whistled as he saw the terrible likeness of Harry Potter on the front page.

“Journalism,” he murmured to himself. “Only gets half the information right, and half of that is only accidental.”

Regulus paged through the newspaper, his brow furrowing even deeper with every article he read. The wizarding world, as seen by the Dark Lord, was beginning to appear, and it was dark indeed.

Without warning, Harry Potter burst through Regulus’ closed door, waving a different copy of the Prophet in the air.

Regulus jumped to his feet, wand in his hand and aimed at the door before his mind could register that it was the Boy Who Lived, not Lord Voldemort.

“Have you seen this?” the boy panted.

“Yes,” Regulus replied. “And just who do you think you are, coming in without knocking?”

“Sorry,” Harry said, breathing heavily. He collapsed on a stiff chair near the doorway. “What do we do?”

“ _Now_ you’re coming to me for advice?” Regulus said disbelievingly, raising his eyebrows.

“Well,” Harry said, “You do seem to know a lot more than we do…living through the first war on the other side…you know…”

Regulus relented, looking down at the paper in his hand. “Did you read anything other than the page with your mug shot plastered all over it?”

Harry shook his head. “Page two,” Regulus said. “Read it.”

Harry was quiet, his brow furrowing in consternation as he read. “A muggle-born register?” he exploded once he had read. “That…is that even _LEGAL_?”

“The Dark Lord owns the Ministry,” Regulus said. “Anything he says goes. Am I right to assume that Hermione is muggle-born?”

“You do a lot of assuming,” Harry said grouchily. “But yes.”

“Good thing you’re on the run, then.”

Harry groaned.

“Harry!” A voice called. “Come down, Remus says there’s more!”

Harry looked between Regulus and the door.

“Go,” Reg said heavily. “Pump your pet werewolf for information. Then let him go. I do suggest telling me first…if he goes and tells people about my existence, word might get back to the wrong ears.”

“Harry!”

Harry looked as if he might like to stay and argue over Regulus’ werewolf comment, but the second call had him turning to rush downstairs.

Regulus leaned back and rubbed his temples. These three made everything so much more complicated…but some long-suppressed part of him was still glad that they had chosen Grimmauld Place as their safe haven.

A jolt of fiery pain shot up through his bones. His back arched, and a silent scream forced itself past his lips. His eyes filled with black, furious flames.

Then everything disappeared into the void.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

_The room was eerily quiet, tall domed walls giving the impression of a sterile, imposing place. In the center of the room, on a raised dais, stood a stone arch. In between the stone pillars of the arch: A grey, shimmering substance._

_Shoes clicked on the floor, two separate gaits, echoing in the empty room. The first was shuffling, excited and fearful at the same time, the heels dragging on the floor. The second steps were firm and concise, decisive, ringing out in the hall._

_The people belonging to the footsteps approached the dais. The shuffler, a hunched old man clothed in the nondescript grey robes of an Unspeakable led the way. He was followed by a tall man who gave out an aura of evil. He was painfully handsome, his features carved into his face as if into stone and luscious black hair swept across his alabaster brow._

_It was the eyes that would turn people away, or transfix them for life. The eyes were the only thing that spoke of the man’s true soul, and the dark deeds he had committed. They were a deep, burning red, the irises seeping around the pupils like blood come to the surface._

_The old man stopped just before the steps to the dais. “Here it is,” he croaked. The taller man walked forward, and the other seemed to cringe away and lean closer at the same time._

_The tall, ageless one stepped forward, climbing the first step, and then the second. “So this is the veil,” he breathed in awe. At the top of the dais, he reached out, almost touching the wavering nothing._

_“I – I wouldn’t touch it if I were you,” the old man interrupted nervously. “We don’t know…”_

_“What you don’t know around here could fill a thousand books, Mr. Davies, perhaps more. And I have no more use for you.”_

_The elderly man didn’t stand a chance. With one incantation, a bright green light shot out of the wand that was suddenly in the other man’s hand. Its victim crumpled soundlessly to the floor._

_The red-eyed man turned to the Veil. “Now,” he said, “we begin.”_

_“_ _Multis meis invocabo sanguis purissimus patris nostri causa adjuvet…”_

_The Latin words flowed off of his tongue, much practiced, as the man cut a sliver into his hand. Reaching out, he attempted to put his hand through the Veil only to meet an invisible wall. Undeterred, the man pressed his hand flat against the barrier, allowing the blood to drip downwards until it disappeared._

_“Invocabo te!” he roared. “Et ego invocabo te!”_

_A powerful shockwave of magic emanated from the Veil, knocking the man before it back a few steps._

_But he barely noticed. He only had eyes for the Veil._

_“It worked,” he said, with what would have in any other man sounded like shock, but in this man sounded like arrogance. “It worked.”_

_A shard sharp grin crept over his face as he stared at the barely there reflection of another man on the other side of the Veil. “Greetings, sire.”_

_Salazar Slytherin grinned at his distant descendant. “Well met, Tom Riddle.” His voice hissed through the room, the Parseltongue echoing in the wannabe Dark Lord’s bones. “We shall do great things, you and I.”_

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Regulus came to, gasping and seizing on the floor. He lay on the hard wood panels, focusing on breathing, as his sight slowly came back and the numbness faded from his body. He came aware of the roughness of the wood beneath his cheek, and peeled his head off of the floor. Agonizing, he pushed himself up to his knees with a grunt. His wand was gripped in one of his hands, his fingers stiff and unmovable.

Regulus panted. He squeezed his eyes shut, and opened them again. Thankfully, the headache was gone. But the air in his room felt uncomfortably sick, nauseatingly stale. Reaching up, he grasped his bedpost and pulled himself to his feet. His mind was swirling, too fast for him to comprehend. The images he had just seen flashed behind his eyes over and over and over…he needed a distraction. He needed…

Regulus stumbled out of his room and down the stair without thinking. Before he knew it, he was once more lurking outside of the kitchen, listening.

“So…do you accept my offer? Will three become four? I cannot believe that Dumbledore would have disapproved, he appointed me your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, after all. And I must tell you that I believe that we are facing magic many of us have never encountered or imagined.”

Regulus leaned against the wall, legs shaking. He couldn’t bring himself to interrupt the tête-à-tête they were having inside the kitchen. Remus wouldn’t want him there... hell, Remus probably didn’t want him alive. Their relationship was strained at best, murderous at worst. He took the mongrel’s wand out of his pocket, twirling it in his hand as he remembered…

…………………………....

_“He’s a werewolf.”_

_Severus slammed his books down on the library table and slumped in a chair opposite. The older boy had few true friends in his own year; he was a part of Mulciber and Avery’s posse. Whenever he wanted to moan or complain, he sought out Regulus. The two had formed a tentative friendship out of what had originally been an alliance against James Potter and Sirius Black._

_“Who? Potter?” Regulus snorted, hunching over his essay. “You’re grasping at straws, Sev.” Severus put his head in his hands._

_“Not Potter,” he said, his voice muffled. “Lupin.”_

_“Really,” Regulus said, staring off into the distance as he contemplated this. He looked down at his essay again. “Absurd.”_

_“Think about it, Reg,” Severus said, leaning across the table, suddenly animated. “He’s gone every full moon. We even read about werewolves third year – don’t tell me you haven’t seen the symptoms too.”_

_“So, he’s a werewolf,” Regulus said, still disinterested. He wrinkled his nose. Anything that wasn’t a pureblood witch or wizard was lesser. Half-bloods were fine. He liked Severus. But werewolves? Under no circumstances would you find Regulus Black consorting with the likes of them. “Who cares, beyond that scraggly group of teens that my brother has affiliated himself with?”_

_Regulus looked closer at Severus, who had shaken his head and turned away. “No, Sev,” Regulus groaned. “Not this again.”_

_Severus ignored him, his gaze fixed on a piece of paper he was worrying to death._

_“We’ve talked about this,” Regulus said. “Repeatedly. You called her the worst name you can call a witch or wizard. There’s no coming back from that.”_

_“If I had proof – proof that they aren’t the heroes the school sees them as…”_

_Regulus held up a hand. “I’m going to stop you right there.”_

_Severus sighed. “This is the end of the werewolf nonsense, right here, Sev,” Regulus said seriously. “You don’t mess around with wolves unless you want to become one. Okay?”_

_Severus nodded reluctantly, and got out his books to begin working._

_……………………………_

_“You did what?” Regulus hissed furiously at his friend. “You actually went after him? An adolescent werewolf?” He leaned back in his chair, the very one he had sat in when Severus first told him his suspicions. He shook his head disgustedly. “Must be the muggle genes,” he said. Severus flinched and sat straighter, black eyes furious._

_“Take that back,” Severus said, standing and leaning over the table._

_Regulus stood, and leaned toward his friend as well._

_“I will not,” he said proudly. “I hate having to lower myself to that insult, but honestly! What you did wasn’t brave, Severus, it was plain STUPID.”_

_Severus sat back down, cowed. “Apparently it was all a prank,” he muttered dejectedly. “Your idiot brother almost got me killed.”_

_Regulus, who had sat down as well and bent his head over his work, jerked his head up at the mention of Sirius. “What did he do?” he asked in a dark tone._

_“Hell if I know,” Severus replied. “Just what Potter told me when he was ‘saving me’. It was right in between, ‘this doesn’t mean I like you’, and, ‘you owe me one, Snivellus’.”_

_“Arse,” Regulus muttered. “All of them.”_

_“I want to get them for it,” Severus said murderously. “But they’re the Headmaster’s golden boys. Can do no wrong. It’s like one of those muggle monkey things.”_

_Regulus laughed, shaking his head. “One day, we’ll look back on this and laugh.”_

_“I’m going to get them for it,” he said decidedly, lowering his voice. Regulus looked at Severus sharply._

_“I’m serious,” Sev said. He ran a hand along the inside of his left forearm. Regulus’ eyes widened._

_“You aren’t,” he breathed._

_“I will be,” Severus said, just as quietly. “Those gits can laugh now, because I bloody well will be when I’m standing over their bodies, in the end.”_

_“And Lily?”_

_A shadow crossed Severus’ face._

_“You know you’ll hurt Lily if you hurt James. She does care for him, no matter how she tries to conceal it.”_

_“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.” With that, Severus picked up his books and left to return to the dungeons a whole hour earlier than he usually did._

_……………………………_

_Severus didn’t return the rest of the week. Regulus heard rumours that he was visiting the Malfoys that weekend instead of Hogsmeade. They apparently had a large potions lab they offered him full use of for the weekend._

_Regulus could guess as to what was really happening at the Malfoy’s._

_He spent the time wondering when it would happen to him, and compiling a list of questions for Severus, when he returned._

_While Severus’ spot at Regulus’ table was perpetually empty that week, Regulus began to notice another boy who, for all intents and purposes, looked as if he was working his way up the available library tables to get closer to Regulus’. The boy had a forgettable face, one that Regulus felt he should know, but Regulus couldn’t place him. It infuriated him that such a relatively small school should have someone that he didn’t know._

_Finally, one day, there were no tables left. All the regulars from whom the boy had been stealing spots were back._

_Regulus sat at his table, surrounded by books, working on a three-foot essay that was due in two days. He never thought he would miss Severus…the blighter had been gone three days now, and Regulus was getting antsy waiting for his friend’s return. He was stewing, trying and failing to concentrate on his work, when he was interrupted by a timid voice._

_“Hello?” It was the boy he had been noticing all week. Up close, he looked older, but still scrawnier than Severus, with sandy brown hair and brown eyes._

_Regulus stared at him without speaking, waiting for the boy to say something more._

_When it became clear that Regulus wasn’t going to greet him in return, the boy sat, and said, hesitantly, “Can I sit here?”_

_Again, Regulus felt no need to respond. He returned back to his essay. Let the strange boy sit there, but he didn’t need to answer to pleasantries and questions with obvious answers._

_The boy cleared his throat, and Regulus looked up._

_The boy was glancing behind him before turning and ducking his head, hiding a bit. Up close, Regulus could see the white and pink lines of old and new scars lining his face. Recognition struck Regulus like a hammer._

_“You,” he said, pushing his chair back and grabbing his books. “You bastard.”_

_Remus Lupin just sat there, hunched over his books, waiting for the insults to end. When that seemed to be the end of it, he looked up at Regulus apologetically._

_“I wanted to say I was sorry,” he said, looking directly into Regulus’ flinty grey eyes. “I want to apologize for Sirius…and…and everyone who was involved. Severus isn’t here, but you’re his friend, so…I thought maybe you could tell him for me?”_

_“Coward.” Was Regulus’ response to that, but he did sit back down and unpack his essay again._

_“I know,” Lupin said, bowing his head._

_“Mongrel,” Regulus spat. Lupin’s head shot up. He obviously wasn’t expecting Regulus to know that bit of the story._

_“Let’s not get personal, now,” Remus said. He held out his hand. “Remus Lupin. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”_

_Regulus looked at the hand like it was an Inferi reaching for him. After a few moments, he shook it quickly. “Regulus Black,” he muttered. “You’ve been introduced to me by way of my brother.”_

_Remus nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “But I…I won’t judge you by what he says if you don’t judge me by what Sniv – Snape says.”_

_Regulus watched Lupin, with a calculated stare. Eventually, he nodded. “We’ll be great friends, you and I,” he prophesied coldly. After all, wasn’t his mother always complaining about him not having a cadre of followers to cultivate? A werewolf, despite the fact that it was a monstrosity, could be very useful in the future._

_Remus nodded once sharply, then returned to his books, grinning._

_………………………….._

_Regulus and Severus extended their study group to include Lupin after Severus’ return. Regulus hadn’t been able to get the details on Severus’ visit with the Malfoy’s, just a confirmation of his suspicions, since he was playing middleman for Remus and Sev the first few days. After Regulus had explained his logic on inviting Remus to join their group, Severus had been surprisingly accepting, but still very wary of the werewolf. Remus’ apology did wonders for their relationship._

_Remus was gullible and trusting. Regulus teased information out of him with such ease that Severus admitted to being frightened for the werewolf’s future outside Hogwarts. Remus regaled them with tales of his little group, which he had told them was nicknamed the ‘Marauders’. Along with that nickname, he divulged his own nickname within that group while simultaneously ignoring their hints that they wanted to know the rest of the group’s names too._

_“Remus has issues,” Regulus said to Severus one day after Remus had left them, almost in tears over his rotten childhood where no one had touched him after he had accidentally brushed fingers with Severus as he passed the Slytherin a book._

_“He trusts us with his secrets,” Severus shrugged. “Those issues are secrets. And what are secrets for if not to be exploited?”_

_They didn’t truly hit the gold mine until after two months, when Moony, as he was sometimes called, showed them the Marauder’s Map. Regulus and Severus carefully filed away that information for future reference._

_Despite himself, Regulus sometimes found himself genuinely laughing at one of Remus’ jokes, and sympathizing with him over Pettigrew’s stupidity._

_Maybe that was why what happened soon after the Map hit him so hard._

_He and Severus were walking into the Great Hall when, suddenly, buckets and buckets of water rained down on them. The two soon found that they were trapped in the doorway, where they stayed under the torrent, unable to get out._

_“Hey, Snivellus!” Sirius Black shouted out, standing on the bench and yelling so the whole hall could hear him. “Maybe if you stay under there long enough, the grease will be miraculously washed out of your hair!”_

_The two Slytherins were boiling with rage and humiliation as three of the four tables burst out into raucous laughter. Regulus didn’t dare seek out Remus._

_Dumbledore had to force Sirius and James to undo the ‘clever charms’ they had done to activate the prank._

_Regulus and Severus missed dinner to go change, and were starving at breakfast the next day._

_“You saw him, didn’t you?” Severus hissed at Regulus, gesturing toward Remus, who was eating his food, oblivious to their presence at the Slytherin table._

_“I didn’t look,” Regulus said coldly._

_“He was laughing along with the rest of them like it was the best bloody prank he had seen in his life.” Severus glared at the Gryffindor table._

_“Regulus,” he said suddenly, turning to the younger boy. “It’s time.”_

_Watching Moony on his home turf, Regulus nodded, silently agreeing with his dark-haired friend._

_…………………………………._

_When Remus approached their table at the library next, Regulus and Sirius didn’t acknowledge him, even when he sat down and cleared his throat._

_“Hey, guys,” he said after a minute, voice cracking._

_Severus kept writing, but Regulus’ quill stilled._

_“Oh, now we’re friends?” he said, affecting surprise. “Severus,” he said, nudging Sev’s elbow, “Our friend Remus is here.”_

_“Really?” Severus said, looking up and not even making any noise about how Regulus’ nudge had made him mess up the word he had been writing. “Are you sure?” Remus reddened, sliding down in his seat. “Is it Remus, or…” Severus paused for dramatic effect, “Or is it Moony?”_

_“Remus,” the werewolf whispered._

_“Well, Remus, my friend,” Regulus spat. “I have to say, I have been doubting the strength of our friendship lately.” He overemphasized the word friend each time he said it._

_“Yeah,” Severus continued, “Especially when a band of morons got us stuck under a doorway.”_

_“What can we say?” an unexpected voice joined in. Regulus tensed as his brother and James Potter, along with Pettigrew, entered the scene from behind a bookshelf. Sirius grinned wickedly at Severus. “That hair just attracts water, it needs to be washed that badly.”_

_“Hello, Moony,” James said politely, tucking his hands in his pockets. “We knew you were disappearing off to the library every day, but we didn’t know who with.” He gave a disgusted sniff, looking at Regulus and Severus. “Can’t say I’m delighted with the company you keep.”_

_Remus was quiet._

_“You have a choice to make, now, Moony,” Regulus began in a harsh undertone as Sirius and James continued their banter. “You can sit there and do nothing, and we won’t ever want to see you again. You can leave with them, and we won’t ever want to see you again. Or, you can sit there and tell them to bugger off, maybe add a hex or two, and we’ll let you enjoy our company forevermore.”_

_Remus’ eyes darted back and forth between his two groups of friends._

_“Come on, Moony,” James said, starting to walk away with James. “We’re going to break into Honeydukes this evening!”_

_Remus stood, and began gathering his books as the two Slytherins watched stonily. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “But they’ve been there for me the whole time…I can’t lose them now.”_

_Regulus and Severus watched the wolf walk away from them._

_Severus turned back to his essay as soon as Remus was out of sight, leaving Regulus to stare after the Gryffindor._

_“Merlin,” Severus swore, “You ruined my essay!” He drew his wand and stared at the splotch of ink Regulus had earlier caused to drop over Severus’ perfectly penned essay._

_“I don’t think Potter was joking about Honeydukes,” Regulus said suddenly, still staring off in the direction Moony left in._

_Severus followed his friend’s line of thought. “Map?”_

_“Map,” Regulus agreed. “It’s time.”_

_Two days later, Filch confiscated the Marauder’s Map, and gave the Marauders themselves a month’s worth of detention._

_…………………………….._

Remus was supposed to be the good one, Regulus thought bitterly. But he stood by as his three other friends committed countless horrors in their time at Hogwarts.

Regulus still hadn’t forgiven the quartet for what he considered to be the worst, worse than humiliating him.

Humiliating _her_. Hurting _her._

And so the feud began, Regulus thought tiredly. It had mostly been Severus before the water prank, but after that, Regulus was attacking the ‘Marauders’ just as viciously and just as often.

His reverie was interrupted by shouting voices, and the slam of the door. Remus, livid, burst through to the other side. Regulus jumped to his feet.

“My wand,” Remus snarled.

“Only if you apologize,” Regulus said flippantly, pointing Lupin’s wand at him.

Remus stood stiffly, unapologetic. “They were my friends longer than we were friends,” he said bitterly. “And I was in Gryffindor.”

“And Gryffindors don’t protect their own,” Regulus said, eyes narrowed, trying to control the anger that was stoking that strange inner fire.

“Gryffindors are loyal,” Remus said.

“Are they?” Regulus said, raising an eyebrow.

“Regulus, I apologized to her. I was the one who gave everything back! I…”

“Coward, or loyal mutt?” Regulus said.

Lupin looked away. “Give me my wand.”

Regulus tossed it to him. Lupin caught it, surprised. “Don’t tell anyone I’m here,” Regulus ordered.

“Or what?” Lupin shot back, more out of habit than anything.

“Or I’ll tell those kids in the kitchen every single miserable detail of your little gang that I remember from school.”

That stopped Lupin in his tracks. “Fine,” he breathed. “Fine.”

Regulus flicked his wand at the werewolf, silently casting the tongue curling spell he had discovered one of the old Aurors had left.

Remus recoiled for a minute, before nodding sharply at Regulus and leaving.

Regulus watched the door slam behind Moony, then turned and entered the kitchen.

“Parents shouldn’t leave their kids unless – unless they’ve got to.”

“Luckily, that wasn’t one of my forefather’s shortcomings,” Regulus drawled. “They tended to smother their children, so long as they were sorted correctly, and followed their parents’ every whim.” He tossed Potter’s copy of the Prophet on the table as they all stared at him in silence. “Read it,” he said simply. “All the way through. Then tell me what you think of your Albus Dumbledore.”

Watching Regulus out of the corner of his eye, Harry grabbed the paper and opened it. Regulus gave Hermione and Ron his own copy, then stood in the doorway, listening to the turn of the pages.

It was quiet for about ten minutes before Harry spoke.

“This isn’t true,” he said, glancing up at Regulus. When the man raised a brow, Harry shook his head in denial.

“This can’t be true.” Harry switched his gaze back and forth between the three people in the room with him and the paper. “No. It’s not true.”

“Are you in denial, Potter?” Regulus asked.

“It’s Rita Skeeter,” Hermione said, curling her mouth around the words and throwing them out. “Nothing she prints is true.”

“And that is where you’re wrong, Hermione dear,” Regulus said. “All fiction has roots in reality. Now, while I understand that you might not have the best relationship with Skeeter given the exaggerations she printed about you in your fourth year, she does get her material somewhere.”

“How did you find out about that?” Hermione asked, startled.

“I read,” Regulus smirked, slouching against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. “The old Prophet archives are most interesting.”

Hermione winced, and turned away from Regulus’ laughter-filled gaze, back to Harry. “I doubt any of it is true, Harry.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, barking out a laugh.

“You don’t have as much experience with Rita as we do,” Hermione admonished him. “She uses a Quick Quotes quill. It can falsify anything true beyond belief.”

“I wonder what she knows about Grindewald,” Regulus mused.

“THAT is not true,” Ron said. “I grew up hearing stories of Dumbledore’s defeat of Grindewald, right alongside stories of Harry’s defeat of Voldemort. Dumbledore fought him. There is no way – I can’t even imagine – just no. No, no, no.” Ron buried his face in his hands, rubbing at his eyes as if trying to get the image of Grindewald and Dumbledore…intimate…out of his head.

“All couples fight, Ron,” Regulus said in an assuring tone, sending a meaningful look between Ron and Hermione, who glared at him. “I imagine that they were no different.”

“Next week it’s about his life at Hogwarts,” Harry said, still looking at the newspaper. “They’re going to tear our memory of him to shreds…I don’t even – “

Harry was interrupted by a sharp crack in the other room. A horrible yelling commenced.

Regulus peered out into the hallway. “Kreacher’s got Mundungus Fletcher,” he observed. He narrowed his eyes. This kidnapping was something he had not ordered, and he hated to think the elf was beginning to get ideas of his own. “Do you know anything about that, Potter?”

“Wha – how did you know it was Kreacher?” Potter asked, hesitating a moment and shifting on his feet. “It could’ve been an attack – “

“My house, Potter,” Regulus said dismissively. “I know all and see all.”

Potter seemed to be seriously considering this, and Regulus almost laughed. “Kidding, Potter,” he said. “I looked into the hall.”

Harry nodded. Noticing Ron and Hermione’s questioning expressions, he cringed. “I’ll explain later,” he said, then dashed out into the hallway. Ron, with an uncomfortable glance between Regulus and Hermione, followed him.

“Regulus,” Hermione said sharply, stopping him from following after Ron. “I thought we agreed not to go after Mundungus. I thought, since you have the locket, we agreed that it would be a waste of time.”

Regulus looked at her, expression unreadable, waiting for her to realise the obvious. “We did,” he said.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Then Harry – “

“I did give Kreacher an order to follow any orders given by any of the three of you,” Regulus noted. He watched Hermione carefully. “Do you know why Harry might’ve told Kreacher to go fetch Mundungus Fletcher?”

Hermione’s browed furrowed and her eyes darted back and forth as if she were solving a very complicated puzzle. Slowly, comprehension dawned. “Oh, no, Harry, you didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

They were interrupted by screams from the hallway.

“Kreacher, no!” Regulus heard Harry yell. Hermione was immediately rushing out of the door. He lazily peeled himself off the wall and strolled toward all the noise.

He entered the entryway to quite a scene. Kreacher was attempting to bash Mundungus’ brains in with a frying pan, with the three Gryffindors yelling at him to stop.

Regulus groaned. “Useless, all of you,” he muttered. “Kreacher, stop!” At the direct order, the elf ceased to attack Mundungus and retreated.

The trio looked back at him thankfully, and he rolled his eyes. “Harry, hurry up and get out of him whatever you needed. I’m already tiring of his presence.”

Harry nodded. “Right,” he began. “Mundungus, were you able to deliver my message?”

“No,” the man panted, cradling his head in his hands. Harry’s shoulders slumped.

“You couldn’t find him?”

Regulus watched with interest as the scum cowered before the house elf and the boy half his age. Harry was digging for something rooted in the muck, and his guess was that Harry wouldn’t find it.

“No! I told yeh, I couldn’t!”

“Harry – “ Hermione attempted to intervene, a crease between her eyebrows. “Let’s just…”

“No!” Harry burst. “No, I want to know _why_.”

He stepped forward, yanking Mundungus closer and shoving his wand between the thief’s eyes. His green eyes burned with a fire that made Regulus want to step back a few steps.

“Why,” Harry growled, “couldn’t you pass on my message?”

“Because he was surrounded,” Mundungus said, voice hoarse with nerves. “He was in the Atrium. Full o’ people. I couldn’t get to him.”

“Where?” Harry spat. “Where was he?”

“On the stage,” Mundungus panted. “With the Weasleys.”

“The Weasleys?” Ron shouted, shouldering his way forward until he was right next to Harry. “Why were the Weasleys there? Which ones?”

“I dunno, I dunno!” Mundungus cried. “Molly, and Arthur, and the girl who’s supposed to be at Hogwarts!”

Ron was shaking. “They’ve got my parents, Harry, they’ve got my little sister!”

“Ron, it’ll be fine, we’ll think of something,” Hermione consoled her friend, wedging herself between the two of them with a hand on one of their shoulders. “Mundungus, who else was there?”

“The Weasleys,” Mundungus wheezed. “Draco Malfoy. And that Ministry wh – “ Mundungus paused as Harry’s eyes narrowed. “The mudblood hunter. Umbridge.”

Even Regulus jumped minutely as at the sound of the last name as Harry’s wand slipped, and Mundungus’ eyebrows lit on fire.

“Aguamenti!” Hermione cast the water spell to keep Mundungus’ eyebrows from going up in flames. The trio all stared at one another as if they had seen a ghost. Regulus stepped out of the shadows. _Time to take out the trash_ , he thought to himself.

“I would have let him burn,” Regulus said out loud, kicking the wet man on the ground. “Worthless piece of filth.”

“Who’re you?” the man sputtered.

“Obliviate,” Regulus said. He wiped all memories of Grimmauld Place from the man’s mind, then sent him into a sleep that he would write off as a drunken stupor. He beckoned his house elf. “Take him back to where you found him, Kreacher,” he said. The elf and man popped out of existence. Regulus straightened and turned to the three who had frozen, barely paying any attention to Regulus’ actions.

“What is wrong with you all?” Regulus asked impatiently. “Did you know that woman or something? Is she dead?”

Hermione slowly shook her head. “No…” she said. “She’s an old teacher.”

Harry turned to look at Regulus, his green eyes hard and serious.

“Her name is Dolores Umbridge.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	7. The Golden Trio Break Into the Ministry (and Regulus is Left Behind)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> abandoned regulus + offstage Ministry people-heist = bye bye Walburga

“So, let me get this straight.” Regulus held a finger to his lips. He sat in the kitchen, the trio standing around him, contemplating the flood of information. “This woman was a terrible, hide-bound teacher who took over your school while Dumbledore ran off to do who knows what, employed your mortal enemy (who is _apparently_ not Harry’s mortal enemy any more) to act as some sort of student police and prevented you from learning or preparing for the inevitable war, all the while denying Voldemort’s return?”

Hermione and Ron and Harry glanced at each other, nodding. “Yes.”

“And when my idiot brother got captured by Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic, you eliminated her from the equation by sending her to the centaurs?”

Hermione’s lips pinched together. “She deserved it. She made Harry use a Blood Quill, and she – “

Regulus jumped up and spun Hermione around, lifting her off her feet. “Bloody brilliant!” he shouted. “So, why is this important now?”

Harry, who had heretofore been alternating between mussing his hair, making constipated expressions, and pacing, saw fit to reenter the conversation. “Because she obviously has something to do with the Weasleys’ imprisonment.”

Hermione broke apart from Regulus, laying a hand on Harry’s arm. “Harry, you have to remember, Sirius wasn’t actually in the Department of Mysteries.”

Ron furrowed his brow in confusion. “And that is connected to my parents how?”

Hermione turned from Harry to Ron, her hair slapping Regulus in the face. “We have to remember, it could be a lure! They know Harry considers Mr. and Mrs. Weasley family, and that he dated Ginny. What if this is what they’re waiting for? For us to run to the Ministry half-cocked, unprepared for their trap?”

“This is ridiculous!” Harry exploded. “Just – just – “ With a frustrated sigh, he pivoted and stalked out of the room.

Ron, his mouth in a grim line as he glared at Hermione, followed. 

With a groan, Hermione began to count to ten.

“Are – are you all right?” Regulus asked hesitantly. He wasn’t entirely sure how spats such as these were generally handled when you weren’t the object of Hermione’s anger.

“Yes,” she snapped. “I have to wait a minute before I go after him, though.”

“A minute?”

“Well…more like a day…hopefully I can get to him before he does anything.” Back tense, Hermione started walking toward the door.

“What’s he going to do?” Regulus asked curiously. His head was still spinning from tales of magical swamps, Quidditch pitch fights, and centaurs.

“Something stupid,” Hermione grumbled, grabbing her wand as she exited the room.

Regulus recalled the part of Hermione’s story with the threstrals. And the Ministry of Magic, and…he shook his head. Yes, he would trust Hermione’s judgement on this. She was probably right.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Clothes…underwear…socks…um, books?” Harry ran a hand through his hair as he glanced between the open bags on his dresser and the rest of his room. He had never packed, unless it were for school. And he was definitely drawing a blank on what else one should take with them while going on the run.

Hermione would know what he needed. Hell, Hermione was probably already packed, just in case. A contingency plan. But this exit was to be a secret from Hermione.

Hermione would insist they wait. Gather more information. Make a solid plan. All of that could take two days, possibly more. And that was time the Weasleys didn’t have, that Draco didn’t have. He ran his hand through his hair again, frustrated. As his gaze bounced around the room, it caught on a short black cord laying on the dresser.

His face twisted up in a pained grimace as he picked it up.

_“Scared, Potter?”_

_Draco’s liquid grey eyes stared at him with a silent dare as he leaned over the handle of his broom. Harry glanced away from his...companion’s…eyes to view the Forbidden Forest rising up before them. They were already racing toward the trees at a speed that would get them killed during a Quidditch match._

_“Please,” Harry snorted. “I’ve been in there more times than you know.”_

_Then, with a cheeky smirk, he yanked up on his broom handle and soared up into the sky, skimming above the trees._

_It wasn’t the first time this had happened. The two of them, both unable to sleep, getting out their brooms and sneaking out of the castle to fly. Always together, never alone. Harry couldn’t remember a time when the insults were real, the animosity between them not faked…actually, he could. It was last year._

_His gaze flicked to the side. Draco grinned at him, an uninhibited, open smile, the type he only wore in these silent moments when they flew. As if the other boy could read Harry’s mind (which he probably could, Harry had never been a particularly good Occlumens), the smile slipped off of his face, replaced by an expression Harry knew well. Without saying anything, the two turned their brooms around and, low and fast, raced back to the school._

_It was a dance they knew well. Privacy charms erected, Draco’s cloak enveloping them both in its warmth. The Astronomy Tower was practically deserted, most nights…they just had to pay attention to when the firsties would be up studying the constellations. But on these nights, when the tower was all theirs…they could be themselves._

_Harry and Draco were enemies. Most well-known for public altercations. And by the time they realized that the need each had for the other to notice them wasn’t just about hatred, their hostile relationship was already entrenched within Hogwarts society._

_So it was a secret. Something that was just…just their own._

_Later that night, the pair sat on the edge of the tower, legs dangling off the side. Harry was still sharing Draco’s cloak._

_As they gazed out across the grounds, the sun began to rise, dark clouds tinged with pale pink. Slowly, but steadily, the light grew brighter. Harry watched as Draco’s features became more and more strained._

_“Hey,” he said, taking Draco’s right hand in his own. “Are you okay?”_

_Draco flinched at his touch, attempting to hide his left arm behind his body. “I’m fine,” he replied with a smile that was more of a grimace. “Always fine. Just perfect.”_

_“You know if you weren’t – you could tell me.”_

_“Why, so you can throw more accusations at me?” Draco spat. “I didn’t curse that Bell girl, Potter.”_

_Harry clenched his jaw. “I didn’t say you did.”_

_“I was in detention.”_

_“I know you were.”_

_Draco’s hand spasmed in Harry’s. He swiped his other hand over his face. “Merlin,” he muttered into his palm. “Why do you trust me?”_

_“You haven’t given me any reason not to.”_

_Draco’s shoulders hunched. Turning his body, he let his head fall forward to rest on Harry’s shoulder. “I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled._

_Harry shrugged. “Maybe,” he acknowledged. “Maybe I don’t deserve you.”_

_They sat like that for a few minutes. Then, Draco sighed. An answering sigh came from Harry as Draco slowly began to scoot away from him._

_As the blond pulled away, a short length of black cord fell onto the stone between them. With the hand that was now freed, Harry picked it up._

_“What’s this?”_

_Draco stared at the cord with a strangled, contradictory expression on his face. “It’s…it’s nothing.”_

_Harry nodded. Absentmindedly, he rubbed the string between two of his fingers. “Soft,” he noticed._

_Draco was still staring, but no longer at the cord. “You keep it.”_

_Harry side-eyed his…friend. A crooked grin crept onto his face as he held the cord. “I will.”_

Harry was startled out of his reverie by the slam of his door against the wall. He whipped around, wand out and at the ready, only to relax when Ron was shoved into the room by an irate Hermione.

He quirked an eyebrow at his redheaded friend, who only spread his hands and mouthed, “ _I’m sorry.”_

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he turned his attention to Hermione. His only female friend was currently casting all sorts of wards on the room they were currently in…all stemming from the intent to silence whatever conversation she was planning on having.

“Hermione?” Harry asked hesitantly. He tensed as she turned around, spreading his arms slightly in an attempt to hide the half-filled bags he was packing behind him.

Hermione pinned him with a _very_ unamused look as she stalked over, pushed him aside, and held up the first bag.

“Harry,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet, “would you like to inform me as to why I found Ronald attempting to steal my Peruvian Darkness Powder?”

“Er – training exercise,” Harry tried. “We wanted to – um – attempt to get through the entryway without awaking Walburga’s portrait.”

“And the tent?”

“What tent?”

Hermione gave him a _look._ Harry shifted and squirmed under her unrelenting gaze, before finally letting out all his breath in a whoosh of sound.

“Fine, fine, all right!” he shouted. “I was – we were – going to the Ministry.”

Hermione’s expression almost tore his heart out of his chest. Her face was flooded with hurt and betrayal, before she swept it all under the rug and glared at him impersonally.

“Without me?” Her voice froze all the air in the room.

Harry hunched his shoulders and hung his head. Ron physically took a step back, away from Harry. He gestured as if to say: _This one’s all you, mate._

“Hermione,” Harry started, then stopped. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You would’ve stopped me. You’re _going_ to stop me. And if you stop me, I might never see Dra – the Weasleys again. He might – they might – look, we don’t know what’ll happen to them! We know _they_ captured the Weasleys, and if we wait too long – “

“Harry, who’s they?” Harry’s train of thought ground to a halt at Hermione’s quiet question. All of the animosity in her had been drained by some mysterious force.

“What – what do you mean?” He stared at his friend with wide, uncomprehending eyes. “They – _they…_ ”

“The Ministry,” Ron said from the corner of the room he had retreated to. “Death Eaters. Though, Merlin knows, they’re probably all one and the same now.”

Harry’s eyes bounced rapidly back and forth between Hermione and Ron. “Yeah – so, we have to go and, and…”

“Draco’s a Death Eater, Harry,” Hermione said. She still had that eerily calm voice, and pitying look in her eye. “He’s one of them.”

“Yes, well, NOT BY CHOICE!” Harry bellowed. He turned around and slammed his hands on the bureau behind him, gripping the edges with white knuckles. “Not by choice. His father pushed him – he’s scared, Hermione, so scared. We need to get him out! GIVE him a choice in all of this!”

Hermione and Ron exchanged a look over Harry’s head. Cautiously, Hermione stepped up behind him and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. “Harry,” she said hesitantly, “what if he’s already made his choice?”

Harry’s shoulders shook as he replied. “No,” he refused. “No, he can’t have made his choice yet if – if – Hermione, I’m going with or without you. Or Ron. I – I need to – “

“Harry, we need a plan, a solid plan – “

“I HAVE A PLAN!” Harry roared. “You have stores of polyjuice kept on hand, just in case, don’t try to deny it Hermione because I know you do. Ministry employees are entering the Ministry through public toilets. I’ll kidnap one of the many, steal their wand and polyjuice myself to look like that person. Then I’ll flush myself in, and find Dra – find the Weasleys and break them out of there.”

Hermione was shaking her head already. “It won’t work, Harry, we need to – “

“WE CAN’T!” he interrupted her. “How long will it take to make a plan to suit your standards, Hermione, a day? Two? A week? We don’t have that kind of time!”

Hermione had folded in on herself, listening to Harry talk. When he finished, he stood there, panting, waiting for her reaction. Waiting for her to take charge, to work with him.

Squaring her shoulders, she met his eyes. “Fine,” she said. “But you get to tell Regulus.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“This is a crazy idea. Stupid idea. Crazy, crazy stupidly stupid idea.” Regulus shook his head at the three before him. “It won’t work. Someone will get hurt. Maybe someone will die. Maybe they’ll catch you, and all of you will die in particularly horrific ways, then Voldemort will rule the world.”

When Harry’s room had suddenly been cut off from his sense of Grimmauld Place, he had known something was wrong. He had just – foolishly, it seemed – assumed that Hermione would have come to him to inform him of the goings on. Given him a heads up. _Included_ him. It appeared he was woefully, woefully wrong.

“That’s only the worst-case scenario,” Hermione said comfortingly, laying a hand on Regulus’ arm. “It could go so smoothly, we’ll be in and out without a fuss.”

“Do you really believe that?” Regulus asked her, gazing into the soft brown of her eyes.

Her eyes shifted to the side as she responded. “Yes,” she said. “I do.”

“Then your naivete is worse than I thought.” He pulled away from her. “You three are planning to break into one of the most heavily fortified places in the Dark Lord’s regime, and abscond with not one, not two, but three prisoners, _and_ a very high profile Death Eater who may or may not want to go with you! You truly believe you will be able to pull this off without a hitch, and be home before supper?”

“It’s a solid plan, Regulus,” Harry said. His green eyes were serious, for all he was nervously twisting a black cord in his hand. “Polyjuice ourselves in, Imperius a Death Eater to help us, find the Weasleys and Draco, then apparate out to Tottenham Court Road before coming back here.”

Harry’s eyes were bright and feverish. Regulus recognized that face. He had worn that face, so long ago. Despairing of Harry thinking or seeing clearly, he turned to Hermione.

“Hermione,” he implored her, searching her face for any sign of understanding. “You must see – “

“Harry will go with or without me, Regulus,” she told him softly. “If I go – at least I can do something, at least maybe he won’t lose his head and get killed.”

Regulus shifted a step closer to her. Harry and Ron were still shifting uncomfortably by the door. Regulus placed his hands on either side of her face and stared into her eyes. “Your fate will be worse than the boys if you get caught. Harry will be killed. Ron might be tortured a bit, but he’ll definitely be killed. You? They might keep you around, just for shits and giggles.”

“Regulus!” Hermione exclaimed, shocked.

“What?! I was a Death Eater, I know!” he yelled back. His mind conjured images of another lioness too foolhardy to listen to his warning. “You’re just a body to them, Hermione! Not even human! Just another damn Mudblood, a pox upon the wizarding world - ”

He had felt something crumbling inside of him as soon as this conversation began, this idiotic idea that would send them, send _her_ , into danger. That feeling of being so out of control…he had only felt this way one other time in his life. After that word exited his lips, the cliff stopped crumbling, and gave way, just like that, and he was falling so fast into a bottomless pit.

“Hey! You don’t talk to her that way – “

“You prat – “

“I’m sorry,” Regulus said hoarsely before Ron or Harry got close enough to hit him. He stumbled and braced himself against the wall. “I’m sorry.” He looked up at Hermione, grey eyes pleading.

Hermione refused to meet his eyes. She looked instead to Harry. Her shoulders were tense, hiked up around her ears. Regulus turned away.

“Well, we’re going,” Harry said awkwardly.

“I’m sure you are,” Regulus said. “Just as I know I can’t stop you. Here.” He tossed Hermione her beaded bag. “I hope everything you need is in there, just in case something goes wrong.”

Harry and Ron were out the door almost before he finished speaking. Hermione, however, hesitated just a moment. She still hadn’t made eye contact with him. Shaking herself, she made to move past him and out the door. Just as she swung past, he grabbed her forearm to stop her. Startled, she whipped her head around to face him.

He held Hermione’s gaze, grey eyes searching for something in the brown. “Be careful,” he whispered.

She swallowed, tearing her eyes away from his. “As much as always,” she responded quietly.

Then she was gone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Why Hermione hadn’t known that this trip was going to go terribly horribly wrong, she had no idea.

Scratch that, she _had_ known. It was a crazy, crazy stupidly stupid plan that was just like all the other plans Harry had ever made for their little group: too vague and too hopeful and too much relied on outside elements that they had no way of controlling or even knowing about.

It was glaringly obvious, now that she was a sitting duck inside the Ministry of Magic, that _some_ research should have been done. A little surveillance, perhaps. It’s what she would’ve done. What _any_ sane, reasonable person would’ve done.

But she knew Harry. Harry, The Boy Who Thought With His Heart. Which was all well and good, of course, until thinking with his heart instead of his head put Hermione in a situation where she _knew_ they needed more preparation, but she had to compromise with Harry’s plan because she _also_ knew that if she forced the preparation time, Harry would end up leaving two days early, alone, with a plan that would most likely get himself killed. 

Hermione cringed into the shadows as yet another darkly robed Death Eater stalked down the hall Harry had ‘stationed’ her in, two levels above the dungeons. Two levels above where she needed to be: by the boys’ side, making sure they didn’t do anything _stupid._

Her jaw worked and her hands were shaking in her effort to not dash out of her hiding place, where she was safe and poly juiced and alone, and rush to find the boys. She felt she had to be doing something, anything, to secure their escape or… or… Hermione didn’t know, but she knew absolutely nothing could be worse than sitting here and _waiting._

A shuffling of feet down the end of the hall had her once again tense and on edge. They were accompanied by a low, entreating voice, and the muffled click of kitten heels.

“…madam, please, the Dementors are lowering the morale of all of our employees. Seeing as they broke out of Azkaban to join…you know who… they’re putting everyone on edge. Do you think, perhaps, you could convince them to…stay in the court room?”

“The people should rejoice that the ghastly creatures have been united to a common cause,” a shrilly simpering voice replied. “I see no reason to keep the beasts in my primary workplace unless they are necessary to the proceedings.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed and her body tensed as the pair and their entourage drew closer. She knew that voice. Oh, she knew that voice too well.

The sound of people walking abruptly stopped just in front of her.

“Mafalda, what on earth are you doing here? You were supposed to meet me in my office an hour ago to sit in on the Minister’s debriefing!”

Hermione was wrong. It could be worse than waiting. It was much, _much_ worse.

She slowly looked up to face Dolores Umbridge.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Regulus could pace the length of his room in eighteen steps and a turn. His shoes made a crisp, satisfying sound against the hardwood floor, and a muffled sort of thump against the carpets.

He should be doing something. Anything. If he stayed here long, alone, in the quiet, he may as well check himself into St. Mungo’s as clinically insane. He could imagine the nurses nodding at each other grimly over his head. _A Black,_ he could hear them say. _Family madness. The trip back from the dead brought it out In this one._

A choked laugh forced its way out of his throat. Desperately, Regulus shoved his fingers into his hair. It was too long. His mother would’ve never allowed it to reach past his shoulders.

_His mother._

Regulus’ expression darkened as she crossed his mind. A suppressed energy was running through his veins, pulsing at his fingertips and clouding his thought process.

Ever since he returned to life, he had stubbornly refused to open the drapes that separated Walburga Black’s portrait from the civilized world. He didn’t want to know. That’s what it came down to.

His brother was dead and he was alive and it was his mother’s fault.

Walburga had never been the perfect mother. She had been rigid, distant, and expected the world from her children. And…it had gone too far. His father had no backbone to speak of, and by the time Sirius moved out Walburga was well on her way down the family path to insanity.

He didn’t want to know how she could’ve made the decision to kill one of her sons.

It was her fault. _Her_ fault Regulus was back in this world. _Her_ fault Sirius died.

No. It was Regulus’ fault.

Regulus clenched his fist, shaking. Sometime during his internal monologue, he had stopped pacing. Now, he fell to his knees. A strangled cry forced its way out of his mouth. He could feel foreign magic running up and down his veins, painfully, _burning_ him from the inside out. The last time it was this bad, he had a vision of the young Voldemort and Salazar Slytherin.

Every muscle in his body tensed as Regulus fought back. He refused to relinquish control of his body to whatever was trying to possess it.

_{It’s your fault},_ a voice inside his head hissed. _{Your fault your worthless brother is dead.}_

“No!” Regulus’ scream was raw, scraping his throat.

No. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t choose this.

His mother did.

His eyes narrowed and a flood of determination washed through him as he pulled himself to his feet. He reached for his wand, pocketing it. Then he was off, out of his room, down the hall, and down the main stairs.

How he got there was a blur. But finally, there he was. In front of the curtains that separated him from his mother’s last tie to the living.

Unlike the rest of the house, the curtain was in pristine condition. No dust, no signs of wear and tear. Kreacher had obviously been paying more attention to this fabric than to the rest of the mansion.

Taking a deep breath, Regulus threw the curtains open.

“FILTH, STAIN ON THE HOUSE OF MY NOBLE ANCESTORS, BLOOD TRAITOR SCUM…” His mother looked almost lifelike, standing there screeching insults. She looked…mad. But it only lasted a moment before she could see past her hysteria to her son standing before her. A sharp intake of breath was all the surprise she allowed herself to show. “Regulus. Kreacher told me you had returned, but I did not believe it.” Her eyes narrowed spitefully. “I thought, no. If my son were back, surely he would visit me. Surely he would come to pay his respects, and receive his final instructions.”

Regulus’ hand was shaking. “What did you do to me,” he said quietly. His silver eyes had darkened to a stormy gray. “What. Did. You. Do.”

A maniacal grin overtook the painting’s face. “I have made you great, my son,” she said, staring at him in awe. “You will go down in history as the man who made the Dark Lord’s triumph possible.”

“That’s not an answer!” Regulus exploded. “I’m alive, Mother! I’m alive, and Sirius is dead, and I’m _supposed_ to be dead, but I’m not! Why am I here? Answer me!”

“You – “

She was interrupted by a sudden shudder throughout the house. Regulus tensed, and turned to the doorway.

Someone was here.

In the blink of an eye, Regulus had abandoned his place in the entryway and relocated himself to the shadows to the side of the staircase.

Someone was here, and it was not his three guests.

The door creaked open hesitantly. Regulus’ hand was on his wand, and, for once, his mother was quiet without the curtains.

Tentative footsteps echoed heavily throughout the entryway. Regulus narrowed his eyes, trying to ascertain who it was from their shadow. It was too thick to be anyone who knew he was there…

Then, a gruff voice spoke. “Walburga Black,” it said. “It has been some time since I’ve seen your face.”

Regulus tensed, waiting for his mother to start screaming the blasphemies that would indicate it was probably safe for him to reveal himself.

But she didn’t start screaming. In fact, she did the exact opposite. “Why, Mr. Yaxley,” she cooed. “How lovely to see you again.”

“Likewise. I believe you’ve been alone here for quite some time now. It must be a relief to have someone to talk to.”

“Oh, it is,” Walburga replied. Regulus was frozen in horror in the shadows. “All of the comings and goings of that ridiculous Order of the Phoenix…but of course I have Kreacher, my house elf. And just recently, my son, although he has not been quite as dutiful as I might like.”

“Your son?” An edge crept into Yaxley’s voice. “Which son might that be?”

“Not the one you’re thinking of,” Regulus said from the shadows. Slowly, bit by bit, his body thawed, and he peeled himself off of the wall. That unearthly energy still hummed in his veins. It was excited, raring for a fight. Regulus stalked into view, wand at the ready. “Hello, Yaxley.”

Yaxley’s beady little eyes brightened with malicious glee as he saw the youngest Black boy seemingly materialize before him.

“Hello, Regulus,” he chuckled. “I’m so glad your mother’s little charm worked so well. Shall we call the Dark Lord to chat?”

Regulus curled his lip. “I would sooner die than invite that monster into my home.”

Yaxley tensed into a crouch, mirroring Regulus’ dueling posture. “Word on the street is that you’ve already died,” he sneered. “I suppose inviting the ‘monster’ in is next on your list.”

“Do as he says, Regulus,” Walburga screeched. The sound grated against Regulus’ eardrums. He shook his head, trying to clear it. A mean grin grew on Yaxley’s face at the actions of the obviously addled Black boy. It would be an easy fight, and then, who knows? Maybe a spot in the Inner Circle would be opened up, just for him.

“Do as he says,” Regulus repeated. He was deathly still, the calm before the storm. “I have died, and returned, because of you, Mother. Forgive me if I adhere to my own judgement from now on.”

Yaxley made his move.

“ _Expell –_ “

_Stupefy_ , Regulus thought, aiming his wand carefully. Then he turned to his mother’s portrait.

Within the space of a few moments, his Death Eater opponent was prostrate on the ground, and his mother’s portrait was burning.

The Dark Lord, Regulus imagined, could hear her screams interrupting whatever heinous deed he was committing at this very moment. It was only by the grace of Regulus’ explicit orders for Kreacher to stay in the kitchen that the house elf wasn’t present, adding his own screams to the din.

“Regulus!” Her voice attained heights previously unheard from a human’s lungs. “Stop this!”

Regulus’ head canted to the side as he watched. “No.”

It was over as quickly as it had begun, the fire consuming the portrait, frame and all. With a twitch of his wand, it was extinguished, and Regulus stood there, panting. The magic was purring, satisfied, a feeling he knew he could get addicted to all too easily. Inhaling sharply and getting a hold of himself, Regulus turned to deal with the other problem at hand.

He stared at the mass of Yaxley on the ground. The Death Eater was in his home, and his leaving was quite obviously out of the question. That said, Regulus had no idea where Harry and Hermione and Ron were. He was at a loss. He stood there for several minutes, trying to decide what would be the best course of action. As he was contemplating the Death Eater, a silver stag swam through the wall and air to land next to Regulus.

“ _All safe. Yaxley was accidentally invited to Grimmauld Place. We won’t be returning,”_ the stag said in Harry’s voice. Just before it disappeared, Regulus cast a stasis charm on it.

“You won’t be returning,” Regulus scoffed. “Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”

Swiping his wand through the air, he flung Yaxley through two doors and down several staircases. Regulus followed at his leisure, all the way down three flights of stairs to a dungeon basement he doubted Harry or Sirius knew existed. Wandlessly, he opened a door, then pushed Yaxley inside, locking the door securely behind him.

“Expelliarmus,” Regulus said quietly. Yaxley’s wand flew out of his pocket to Regulus’ hand.

“Wha – gerroff – Potter – “

Regulus slipped out of the door as Yaxley began returning to consciousness. He made a beeline for the kitchen.

“Kreacher!” he called. “I have some orders for you.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Late 2 September, 1997**

**Perkin’s Tent**

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry sat on the bottom bunk, head down. His fingers twisted a small length of black cord back and forth. A pile of his belongings, liberated from Hermione’s bag, lay beside him on the bed.

His head shot up at the sound of a soft knock on the doorframe. He sighed when he saw Hermione, her arms folded across her chest.

“What,” he asked in a monotone.

“Ron’s upset,” she said quietly.

Harry shook his head morosely. “Of course he is.”

“Well…can you really blame him?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He didn’t sign up for this, Harry.”

“You’re one to talk.” Hermione flinched away. Harry, still staring at his hands, didn’t notice. He continued. “Do you want to talk about what happened today, Hermione? Because I don’t.”

“Harry – “

“That wasn’t sending her to the centaurs, Hermione.”

“Harry, I think you should come out to the living room. We all – we all should talk.”

Harry’s lips tightened. “Fine,” he acquiesced. “Fine.”

Without making eye contact with Hermione, he shoved the cord into his pocket and shouldered his way past her. Biting her lip, she counted to thirty. Then she followed.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

By the time Hermione arrived in the living room, the discussion between the men had already escalated. Contrary to her hope that sharing a few words would somehow resolve the issues, both wands were out and the volume of their voices was at ‘high’.

“…Draco sodding Malfoy!!!”

“Yeah, and THIS is EXACTLY why I DIDN’T tell you! You want to talk about prejudice? How about the fact that you hadn’t even gotten on the train and you already believed all Slytherins were evil?”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t!”

“AT LEAST I GOT OVER MY CHILDISH STUPIDITY!”

“ARE YOU CALLING ME STUPID???”

“NO, I’M CALLING YOU A CHILD!”

“Levi – “

“PROTEGO!” Hermione screamed, erecting a shield between Harry and Ron…and consequently herself and Ron. She rushed to Harry’s side, pushing his wand down and holding him back. “Ron – “

“Oh, don’t even get me started on what _you_ did back there,” Ron said, turning on Hermione with a snarl. “Answer me truthfully: Would you, or would you not, have let my parents die just to get Harry out of there alive?”

“Of course she wouldn’t have! We’re in this together, Ron! We all got out! What’s your problem?” Harry ran a hand through his hair, his agitation boiling over.

“Like you don’t know, Death Eater lover!”

“Oi – “

The shield charm had already dissipated, and Ron advanced on Harry, using his greater height to his advantage. Hermione was close to tears as she watched everything they had worked towards, the friendship they had built, fall apart. Suddenly, a sound from outside the tent startled her. The boys, oblivious, kept fighting.

“Shhhh!” Hermione hissed. “Did you hear that?”

They both turned to her, faces tight. Then, there was another sound.

Harry and Ron froze, their hands creeping toward their wands.

“ _Sonorus,”_ a voice muttered. Then, as clearly as if he had been speaking right next to them, they heard Regulus’ voice.

“Bad move, sending that Patronus to me, if you really didn’t want me tracking you down. I know you’re here. Please come out.”

Hermione started toward the door. Quick as a flash, Ron’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. His face was twisted in a mask of fury. “Don’t,” he said harshly.

A sigh was heard. “I have food…” Regulus said, oblivious to the drama playing out inside the tent.

“We have to,” Hermione whispered back furiously. “We need his help!”

“What, you don’t think we can do this on our own?” Ron whisper-shouted back. “Look at the Ministry! We got everyone out there, and he didn’t help a whit!”

“We didn’t get everyone out!” Harry re-entered the fray. Sneering at Ron, he stalked past him and laid a hand on the tent flap.

“Please,” Ron snorted. “We got everyone who mattered out.”

“Ron!” Hermione gasped. Harry’s face flickered with emotion. She waited for him to start shouting, but he shoved a cool mask over his face.

“No, we didn’t,” was all he said. Then, he opened the tent flap, and stepped out.

“Hermione, listen…”

Hermione ignored Ron, and followed Harry out.

Harry, wand out, slunk out of the tent, creeping over the fallen leaves. Reaching the edge of the wards, Hermione had set up, he stopped. Hermione followed, halting just behind his right shoulder.

Harry squinted at the figure, attempting to see through the darkness. It was unclear whether the person in the cloak was Regulus, or an imposter. “Petrificus Totalus!” Harry cried, aiming carefully.

“Protego,” a familiar voice countered. “Really, Harry, you knew I’d be prepared for that.”

“Regulus?” Hermione whispered, still hiding in the charm’s field.

“Yes,” he said crisply. There were a few moments of silence, then he sighed. “I suppose you want me to prove it?” A quiet murmur, and a space of five feet around him was illuminated. Harry’s shoulders relaxed. It definitely looked like Regulus. Behind him, he heard Hermione move to bring Regulus within the wards. But he spread an arm out, stopping her. Poly-juice and glamour charms were still a possibility.

Regulus rolled his eyes as there was no response. “The first time we met, Harry thought I was Sirius and I said, wrong brother.” He paused. “Hermione, you came to check on me once to make sure I was still alive.”

The two behind the wards stayed still. “There are seven,” Regulus said finally. “Seven artifacts made of some of the darkest magic. And I have one right here.” Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the Slytherin necklace.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. Then, Harry nodded ever so slightly. He lifted his wand and started casting, including the Black heir in the enchantments this time.

Hermione sprang out of the protection of the charms and tackled the Black in a hug that made him stumble. “We really need to work on how to identify each other,” she mumbled into his coat.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, dropping his bag and enveloping her in his arms. Her small frame was shaking, and she gripped the front of his cloak as if it were a lifeline. “Hermione?” Regulus asked. A shot of fear flashed through him. He looked up at Harry and mouthed, _Is she okay?_ Harry nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced.

“Yeah?” Hermione responded to Regulus, drawing a back a smidge. He started, forgetting he had said her name.

“Is it okay if I’m here?” Regulus asked her.

“Definitely,” Hermione said. She attempted to pull a smile onto her face, but failed miserably. “It’s definitely okay.” She took his hand, taking him into the newly-erected wards. Regulus’ eyes narrowed as he saw Harry already standing there, a stern expression on his face. Glancing back and forth between the two, the gears started turning in Regulus’ mind.

“How did the Ministry infiltration go?” Regulus asked neutrally.

A shadow passed over Hermione’s face, and she looked down. Her hand tightened over Regulus’. Harry’s jaw clenched.

“We got the Weasleys out,” Harry said shortly. “It was successful.”

Hermione shifted next to Regulus. “We should go inside,” she said quietly. “It’s cold.”

“Going to be chillier inside the tent,” Harry muttered, but he turned around and led the way. Hermione and Regulus followed. Hermione still hadn’t let go of Regulus’ hand.

“Hermione,” he whispered. He was concerned…she was practically vibrating beside him. “Are you – “

“I’m fine,” she cut him off. “I just…just…” The shaking got worse, and as she looked down, Regulus could’ve sworn he saw a tear fall from her eye.

They were at the tent flap before he could press her. Harry ducked through, and Regulus withdrew his hand from Hermione’s. He stood there, staring at the girl. She had always been shorter than him, but he had never seen her looking so _small._

“Hermione,” he murmured, holding the flap open for her. Nodding, she ducked through. He followed.

Walking into the tent was like entering a battlefield. Inside, Harry and Ron’s voices were already louder than muggle cannon blasts.

“So, that’s it?” Harry bellowed. “You don’t like one little thing that won’t affect you in any way, and you’re just going to abandon us?”

“Not affect me?” Ron yelled. He gesticulated wildly in Regulus’ general direction. “You’re bringing one of them right into the fold! Into the tent! Are you absolutely certain that’s not You-Know-Who in disguise?”

“Not all Slytherins are automatically evil, Ron!” Harry screamed.

“No, but the ones with a Dark Mark tattooed into their skin are!” Ron countered loudly.

The two of them stood facing each other, breathing heavily. Hermione was frozen in the doorway, Regulus by her side.

The silence slowly grew oppressive. No one could respond to Ron’s last remark. Finally, Regulus shifted.

“I can leave,” he said calmly. “It is no trouble; Grimmauld Place is still safe, and I can continue the fight on my own.”

“No!” Hermione objected, almost before the last word was out of his mouth. “No, you can’t leave.”

Ron pivoted deliberately to face Hermione. His wand was out, and the bag he had packed earlier was in his hand. “I see,” he snarled. “You’ve got the fancy-pants pureblood here, the one with money, and I get thrown out with the rest of the trash, huh?”

Hermione shook her head, shrinking back into Regulus’ chest. Discretely, he palmed his wand. The Weasley boy was thinking irrationally, and in Regulus’ experience, irrational meant unpredictable.

“No, Ron, that’s not it at all…you’re not making sense!”

“Really?” Ron huffed. “I think I’m making perfect sense, Hermione. You just haven’t been able to admit it to yourself yet. Now…now you have to make a choice.”

Hermione and Harry stiffened. “Ron – “ Harry started.

“No!” Ron cut him off, a hand up. “A choice. Me or him, Harry. Black or me.”

Hermione’s mouth tightened, and she exchanged a fraught glance with Harry. Her eyes filled with tears as she responded. “We’re not going to choose, Ron,” she said.

Ron stared at her, then at Harry. They looked back. “We need you both, mate,” Harry said quietly.

Ron slowly shook his head. “No,” he snapped. “You don’t.”

Slinging his sack over a shoulder, he stomped toward the tent flap.

“Ron,” Hermione tried to stop him, a strangled sort of keening escaping her throat. He ignored her, shoving past Regulus and walking out of the tent. “Ron!”

It was quiet. Then, the sharp, final sound of apparition permeated the silence.

Ron was gone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	8. Aimless Travels (and Small Flirtations)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> regulus + harry + hermione = unproductive survival

The next day, Regulus woke up early. As he grumbled and groused his way out of the low bunk bed Harry had offered him the night before, he cursed the fact that this room didn’t have black out curtains. Whoever charmed the tent must’ve been a morning person, for light streamed through the solitary enchanted window in the room.

In the top bunk, Harry groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers over his head. Regulus snickered, Potter’s plight amusing him. Quickly, Regulus finished getting dressed and headed out to the kitchen.

As one of the richest wizarding families in existence, the Blacks didn’t often have to cook for themselves. But it was always an activity Regulus had enjoyed. When he was little, shunted off as the responsibility of one of the house elves, he had learned to properly prepare a meal.

Regulus was facing the stove, scrambling eggs, when Harry emerged from the bedroom. He appeared surprisingly alert for a man who had rarely been up before ten back at Grimmauld Place. He was bundled up in a sweater and a cloak, hair messy and hands shoved in his pockets.

“Good morning,” Regulus greeted him. Harry grunted in response, taking a seat at the small table. He stared morosely at the flower-patterned table cloth. Regulus turned in a way in which he could keep an eye on both the frying bacon and Harry. “How are you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Ron’s gone,” he said in a monotone. “Draco’s not here and we have no idea what the hell we’re doing. How do you think I am?”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Feeling moody today, are we?”

Harry sighed heavily. Slowly, he drew himself up to his feet. “Moody’s eye,” he said. When Regulus just looked confused, Harry elaborated. “I stole Mad-Eye Moody’s eye from where it was on Umbridge’s door, and I…I need to bury it.”

Regulus stiffened. “That’s how you got caught,” he said, whipping the whisk toward Harry. “There probably were all sorts of alarms on it.”

“We figured,” Harry said. He started walking toward the exit. Regulus nodded to himself, returning to his work. As he was flipping a few of the bacon strips, Harry’s voice distracted him.

“What do we do now?”

The younger man had paused just before the tent flap. His hands were clenching into fists and unclenching at his sides, and his green eyes were wide. He looked…lost.

Regulus’ lips tightened. “Go bury your…Moody’s…eye,” he said. “We’ll figure something out when you get back.”

Nodding, Harry turned and left the tent. Regulus returned to cooking, but his mind wasn’t in it.

Ron had abandoned them. Not that Regulus particularly missed the boy, he had more often been an afterthought to the other two – but Harry and Hermione would feel the loss acutely. From what Regulus could glean of their friendship, Ron had been a part of Harry’s trio longer than Hermione.

Regulus’ frown deepened as he contemplated the effects of losing a person on their team.

Harry and Hermione were already shaken from whatever had happened at the Ministry. How would an absent Ron hurt them now?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hermione woke up to the smell of something cooking. She inhaled deeply, stretching. For a moment, she forgot she was on the run with a genocidal maniac on the loose. For a moment, she lost herself in the comforting memories of home, the last place she had woken up like this. But a moment later, reality came crashing in, and she had to hold back a sob.

She didn’t even bother changing out of her PJs, stumbling into the tent’s tiny kitchen to find Regulus cooking bacon and coffee.

“No seconds,” he said as Hermione collapsed onto the ratty old sofa. “I don’t know how long we’ll need to have this food. Best not gorge ourselves, and stock up on whatever we can find in our travels.

“Mmph,” Hermione mumbled in vague agreement. Regulus smiled at the witch, whose bushy hair had gotten even bushier that morning.

“How are we doing this fine morning?” he probed.

“Mmph mmmph mph mph.” Her response was garbled and incomprehensible…a side effect of her face being buried in the couch pillow.

Regulus huffed a laugh, shaking his head. Now this was a Hermione he recognized…the morning, pre-coffee Hermione. Setting the eggs aside, he busied himself attempting to figure out the muggle coffee maker.

A few minutes later, coffee successfully brewed, he carefully made his way to the couch. Coffee, cream, and sugars were at hand.

“Hermione,” he said softly. He held the coffee mug beneath the young woman’s nose. “Wake up.” She didn’t move. “Hermy – own – ninny,” he said in a ridiculous, sing-song voice.

That got her attention. Hermione jumped up, almost knocking the coffee out of Regulus’ hand. “Wha – “

Her eyes wide open, she focused on Regulus and breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Oh, it’s you.”

“You sound relieved,” Regulus noted, handing the coffee to her.

“I thought you were someone else…an old friend. It scared me.”

Regulus raised his eyebrows. “Some friend.” He leaned back on his hands, watching her sip the highly caffeinated drink and wake up even more. When the mug was almost finished, she tucked her feet up under her, and donned what Regulus called ‘Hermione’s thinking face’ in the privacy of his mind.

Inwardly, he sighed. It seemed last night’s insanity had been put behind her.

“We’ll need to move soon,” she said, voicing her thoughts. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to stay too often in any one place, if we don’t have a specific reason to be there.” She traced the lip of her cup with a finger, then her gaze jumped to Regulus. “Will the Death Eaters be looking for you?”

“No,” Regulus said, shaking his head slowly. “I can’t think of any reason they would be, since they don’t even know I’m alive.”

She nodded absently.

“Is there any reason for the Death Eaters to be looking for you?”

Hermione stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Hermione – “

“I killed her.”

Regulus froze where he was, reaching for the girl. Hermione didn’t look at him, gripping the mug in with white knuckles. She stared straight ahead, eyes dull.

“She was heading a Muggle-born Registration Committee. You should’ve _seen_ her, Regulus…condescending to the poor people and twisting their words into incriminations.”

“Dolores Umbridge?” Regulus asked carefully.

Hermione nodded. “That bitch,” she spat. Shuddering, she gasped a sob. “I shouldn’t have said that. I killed her.”

“Shhh, shhh, I know,” Regulus hummed. Setting all caution aside, he slid across the couch and pulled Hermione into his arms. Still holding the coffee, she melted into his embrace.

“She was breaking their wands, sending them all to Azkaban – they didn’t do anything, Reg, they didn’t do anything! How do you steal magic? How can you steal magic? It isn’t possible!”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Then…then the Weasleys were on trial. Ginny was up on the stage, and she looked so scared, and Mrs. Weasley looked so _small_ , and Draco – “ Hermione gulped a sob. “I should let Harry tell that part,” she said quietly.

“Skip that part,” Regulus said comfortingly. “Tell me about Umbridge.”

“Harry was distracted by Draco. Ron was getting the Weasleys out, giving them their wands, and a PortKey…and Umbridge was standing there, shrieking at the Dementors. But we had all cast Patronuses, and they couldn’t get past Harry’s. So…so Umbridge went after Harry herself. He had his back turned, he was focused on Draco, and I – I – “

“You dueled,” Regulus surmised. “And you won.”

Hermione nodded slowly.

“Self-defense, Hermione,” Regulus said. “Or, in this case, defense of others. Harry might’ve died. You saved him. You’re all safe now.”

“Ron is gone,” Hermione said softly.

“He’ll have gone to find some family,” Regulus assured her. “He’s safe too, wherever he is.”

Hermione nodded again, and Regulus scooted back an inch, giving her some space. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

_{Pathetic.}_

Regulus winced, a pained moan escaping him as the voice inside him split his head. The entire world faded out for a few moments as…

_{You’d think she’d never killed before. Obviously if it were unwarranted she wouldn’t have done it. She needs to pull herself together…this is…ridiculous…}_

“…Regulus, Regulus!” He came to, staring at the ceiling. In a flash, Hermione’s face came into view. “Regulus, are you okay? What happened?”

“Er – side effect?” he tried. She looked at him, unamused.

Regulus sighed, and pulled himself up to sit on the couch again. Reaching out, he pulled Hermione up alongside him and handed her the mug of coffee off of the coffee table. “Finish it,” he said, nodding toward the coffee.

She stared at him over the rim of her mug. “Regulus,” she said slowly. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Regulus shifted in his seat. No secrets, they had promised each other, and he had meant it. He had always planned on telling her. It was just…

He didn’t even quite understand what was happening to him. He had thought that maybe, if he had somehow solved the problem, or at the least had some sort of answer for Hermione’s inevitable questions…But he didn’t. All he had was a voice in his head, and alien magic running through his veins, surging up when he least expected it to.

“It’s…nothing,” he said hesitantly.

She looked at him with disbelief. “You just collapsed, screaming and holding your head,” she said. “That’s not nothing.”

“I’m sure I wasn’t screaming,” he hedged. “It was more like…delicate moans.”

Hermione stared at him. Her face contorted into an awkward grimace, as if she didn’t know whether to laugh or scream at him. “Regulus, tell me.”

Regulus’ shoulders hunched. “I was dead, Hermione,” he said bluntly. “I have no memories of that time…but there was something…I get, I don’t know, _flashes_ sometimes.”

“But that wasn’t a flashback,” Hermione said knowingly. Reading him like a book, as per usual.

“No,” Regulus sighed heavily. “That was…a voice.”

“Possession?”

“What? Oh, Merlin, no…at least, I don’t have any missing gaps of time, or unexplained, well, anything. It’s more like…” Regulus furrowed his eyebrows, attempting to think of a way to describe his situation to Hermione. “It’s more like…I have someone living in my head, like I’m a hotel. And they’re watching my life, and weighing in sometimes, only…when they decide to make their opinion known, it _hurts.”_

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “That – I have not have heard of anything like that before.”

Regulus smiled half-heartedly. “I know. Let’s just…forget about it, all right? Like I said, it’s nothing. Probably.”

Hermione still looked worried. “Regulus, if you somehow brought a passenger back with you…”

“It’s nothing, Hermione, please,” Regulus tried for a smile. “Can we talk about something else? Like…can we go back to Grimmauld Place?

“Yaxley?”

Regulus flashed a vicious smile. “Safely locked up in the dungeon.” Hermione looked horrified, and he held his hands up. “Kreacher has been instructed to feed him every so often. With him secured, we could even go back, if you wanted to.”

“I think it’s best if we keep moving,” Hermione said, putting Yaxley to the back of her mind. “Why…you didn’t kill him.”

Regulus met her eyes steadily, and shook his head. “No.”

Hermione shook herself, and returned to the subject at hand. “And you’re sure he won’t have gotten out?”

“Yeah,” Regulus said, the slang ‘yes’ he had heard Harry and Ron use frequently feeling odd on his tongue. “Yes. We won’t have to worry about a Death Eater tail.”

Hermione suddenly looked worried. “What about…what about – you know…”

“This?” Regulus asked, pulling up his shirt-sleeve and baring his Dark Mark.

“Yes,” Hermione said, swallowing. “Will they be able to track you through it?”

“No,” Regulus said decidedly. “I performed some tests on it…the same tests I used before to identify what the different parts in it were…and it seems that the locator and homing beacon bit has been nullified. By my death, I assume. It’s also a lot less permanent than it was before.” He held out his arm. “I mean, look at it! It seems like it’s fading more every day.”

“I suppose you being beyond the veil makes it impossible for You-Know-Who to track you, and if that is a central part of the tattoo, it makes sense that it would begin fading once that bit is disabled.” Hermione hesitated a minute, deep in thought. “Regulus – I think you need to tell Harry how you came back. Sirius was his godfather, and…well…his reaction will get worse the longer you withhold the information.”

Regulus smiled softly. “Figured it out, did you.”

“Yeah,” Hermione said, staring at the mug in his hands. “Once you told me you came back on the same day Sirius died, it…it wasn’t very hard. The Black library is extensive.” She glanced up. “You have to tell Harry.”

Regulus looked away. “I don’t want to,” he said flatly.

“I know,” Hermione said softly. “He needs to know, though.”

“I know.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It became clear that, while he had brought more than a Hogwarts feast supplied, Regulus’ food stash was going to run out long before they reached the final destination, whatever that was to be. With this in mind, Harry set off with his invisibility cloak to raid one of the stores in the local muggle village.

He came back shaken.

“What’s the matter?” Regulus asked with some concern, looking at the sweating man.

“Dementors,” Harry panted. “They – they just appeared…”

“What about your Patronus?” Hermione asked him.

“I thought you were highly proficient at that bit of magic,” Regulus added.

“Couldn’t do it,” Harry said. “I don’t know why…it was like something was sitting on my chest, suppressing any happy memory I could think of.”

“But…you’ve been able to create a Patronus since third year,” Hermione objected. “How would this be different?”

Regulus started, jumping up from the couch where he sat. “Harry,” he exclaimed, “Are you wearing the locket?”

“The locket?”

Hermione gasped, turning to Regulus and back to Harry. “Slytherin’s locket,” she breathed. “A horcrux. That’s some of the darkest magic ever, Harry. A Patronus is pure. There’s no way you’d be able to create a Patronus wearing that.”

“In which case we should not be wearing it,” Regulus intervened. “If that _thing_ is preventing you from protecting yourself…”

“Well, what else are we supposed to do with it? We can’t just allow it to lay around the tent, unprotected!”

“We’ll take turns wearing it,” Hermione reasoned.

“That is the second most unintelligent idea I’ve heard you come up with,” Regulus rolled his eyes. Hermione punched his arm, used to his snark. “Perfect. We’ll all just put a piece of England’s bogeyman around our neck, take turns. Harry couldn’t protect himself wearing it this time. What’s he supposed to do next time? Lay down and die? Maybe the thing will save him somehow.” He took a deep breath, closing his rant. “But, I don’t like the idea of just letting something that powerful lie around either. So, I’ll take first shift.”

Regulus snatched the locket from the table it had been on, throwing it around his neck and stalking out of the tent, leaving a shocked and confused silence behind him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Regulus withdrew the next couple of days. He passed the locket on, as requested, but refused to let Hermione wear it.

“I’m not having a piece of that monster on her all day, every day,” he told Harry privately. “You’re her friend, I’m sure you agree.” Regulus smirked. “You just haven’t found a way to get her to comply.”

Harry shrugged, and exchanged a wicked grin with Regulus. Within a matter of days, Hermione found herself smoothly excluded from the rotation of the Slytherin Locket. 

They thought he was out of it most of the time…staring off into space, fingering the locket around his neck. But he was always observing, always listening, always thinking…Harry still loved the Weasley girl in a way, for all he was obsessing over Draco. Hermione…her he wasn’t sure about. She disliked having to cook. She disliked how hard it was to be clean in this tent, how hard it was to find warmth. Other than that…he couldn’t tell.

Strange for this girl, this _Gryffindor_ , to be so opaque.

“Hey,” she said one day, coming over to where he slouched on the couch, watching Harry stare at the fire.

“Hello,” he responded gruffly.

“You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He turned his face toward her, entirely sincere in his question.

“Well, we are on the run, you did come back from the dead, and you have that…problem...” She laughed nervously.

“I’m perfectly fine, Hermione,” he said, placing a hand over hers.

Her breath caught as she stared at his fingers, splayed over her own, his touch warming the hand she could never get to warm up in this tent.

“Besides,” he continued. “I may not have had a choice in the whole ‘coming back from the dead’ debacle, I’m here with you of my own free will.”

They laughed quietly, a speck of light as the war, the week, the night dragged on.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“I’m very sorry, Professor Black, but it’s a necessary precaution!”

“Oh, he’s not going to take that for an excuse,” Regulus muttered, right before Phineas Nigellus started squawking. Harry gave Regulus a dirty look.

“Never mind where we are,” he said. Regulus rolled his eyes and turned his back on the portrait the three of them had pulled out after spying on the fugitive Muggle-borns and goblins. He leaned back, relaxing, listening to their conversation with one side of his head.

It wasn’t a very interesting conversation. Hermione and Harry were asking all the wrong questions, about their friends, and the sword.

“Well, goodnight to you.” Regulus was drawn back into the conversation by Phineas’ apparent goodbye.

“Wait!” Regulus burst out, moving closer to the portrait. “Wait,” he said, quieter.

“Who – who is this?” Nigellus said, moving away from the exit, his curiosity piqued. “Mr. Weasley?”

Regulus snorted. “Not even close. I’m the one asking the questions right now, Professor. Nigellus – “ He paused. “How is Hogwarts?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to clarify, Mr. Mysterious,” the professor snapped.

“When I – when I was at Hogwarts,” Regulus began slowly, making eye contact with Hermione and Harry to let them know that they were in this conversation too. “When I was at Hogwarts, some students became Death Eaters, and…they started making things…difficult…for other students. And…well, I heard that Amycus and Alecto Carrow were teaching there.” Regulus shook his head in disgust. “Is Hogwarts the same as it was when Granger and Potter left it?”

“Are you saying you didn’t leave at the same time?” Phineas inquired. “Wait a minute – your voice – say something else…”

Harry and Hermione shook their heads at Regulus furiously, waving their hands.

Regulus ignored them. “You haven’t answered my question!” he said harshly. He felt his eyes and his core begin pulsing with magical energy as he thought about the horrors that Hogwarts could be facing, in this time, at this moment.

Phineas Nigellus froze. “Ah, yes,” he said. “The little Black boy. What was your name? I can’t quite remember…you were always so quiet, so biddable, after that spitfire of an older brother.”

Regulus stared at the portrait, a black fire fueled by rage and fear flickering in his eyes.

“This is news,” Phineas continued quietly. “This is news indeed. How did they bring you back, young…Black?”

“Put him away,” Regulus said suddenly, staring off into the distance. “He’s told us all he can. Put him away.”

“Wait – no – you can’t – “

Phineas’ cries were suddenly cut off as Hermione shoved him in the bag.

“Regulus…” she said, reaching out to him. “Regulus, are you okay?”

He turned to her, razor sharp eyes, and a cutting grin, fire subdued. He jumped up, pulling her to her feet and waltzing her around the room. She laughed. “Regulus, what – what are you doing?”

“I am fine,” he said breathlessly. “Wonderful. Hermione, what do you know about Gryffindor’s sword!”

She looked at him, confused.

“The last time Phineas Nigellus saw it, Dumbledore was breaking a ring with it,” he prompted.

“Marvolo Gaunt’s ring,” Harry said, standing, and moving over to Hermione.

“Harry!” Hermione gasped.

“I know!” He shouted in return.

“The sword can destroy Horcruxes!” Hermione squealed, looking back and forth between Regulus and Harry as she continued on with her spiel. Regulus grinned as they connected the dots, finishing each other’s thoughts in the way that only people who grew up together could.

“I’ve got to – maybe in my books – somewhere, something, Dumbledore wrote personal notes in the books as he read them, maybe he said something about the sword, imbibing the basilisk venom – I’m just going to – “ Hermione’s words were a garbled rush, and she backed quickly out of the room before rushing to her own sleeping quarters.

Regulus and Harry shared a quick laugh.

“She is worth ten of R – “ Regulus cut himself off, glancing worriedly at Harry. But the other man just nodded, resigned.

“She is,” Harry quietly agreed. “But… he was my best friend.”

“I know.”

“So…now what?” Harry turned to stare at the Black.

Regulus shrugged. “Find Horcruxes. Destroy Horcruxes. Kill Voldemort. Hermione’ll have some ideas, soon enough. She can whip us into shape.”

Harry nodded. He backed up until the backs of his knees hit an armchair, which he collapsed in. “I guess that’s all we can do,” he sighed. “Rely on Hermione?”

Regulus squinted. “Ehhhh…maybe just, see how we can help and support her?”

Harry barked a laugh. “That’s always the best route to take, when dealing with Hermione.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Regulus couldn’t stand the silence in the room. Harry was content to sit there, poring over a piece of paper with markings Regulus couldn’t quite make out. He made an excuse then headed to the bathroom. Halfway there, he changed his mind, heading to his bed, where he promptly collapsed. Regulus fluffed up his pillow a few times, then rolled over. It was late. He might as well try to get some sleep.

He thought of Hermione, hunkered down in her room with all her books. A mind like hers…ever since he had met her, Regulus had been in awe of what the small woman could do. To be perfectly honest, if he woke up in the morning to find she had magically solved all of their problems like a fairy godmother, he wouldn’t be surprised.

Regulus rolled over, facing the door, and jumped when he saw a shadow standing in the door way. His hand was almost to his wand when the figure spoke.

“Regulus?” Hermione said in a quavering voice.

“Hermione,” he said, sitting up on the side of his bed and looking at her, her hair fluffed out to twice its normal size.

“I…” she started, then just stood there, looking lost.

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms. Sighing, she walked into his embrace.

“It’s such a simple problem,” she whispered. “The sword imbibed the venom, the venom from the basilisk that can kill Horcruxes. Find the sword, then you and Harry won’t have to wear that speck of evil around your necks every day. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you won’t let me touch it, by the way.”

Hermione wiggled on the bed, poking him and getting comfortable. “I wouldn’t have even a trace of that evil marring your pure soul,” Regulus joked.

Hermione snorted. “It’s such a simple problem,” Hermione said again. “I just need to find the sword. How could Dumbledore lose a sword?”

“Very easily, it seems,” Regulus said. “We’ll find it, Hermione.”

“Will we?” She pulled away from him a bit, and shook her head. “I don’t know, Regulus. I just don’t know.”

He sighed and pulled her back to him, rubbing her back.. “I just – just – can’t think,” she said.

“Go sleep,” Regulus prompted. “You’ll have a fresh outlook in the morning and maybe the simple problem will be even simpler.”

“Maybe,” Hermione agreed. After a moment, she spoke again. “Regulus – can – can I stay here tonight?”

He hesitated. It wasn’t the done thing, sleeping in the same bed as a witch who wasn’t your affianced or your wife. But this was a new age, he supposed…a new age, and a new time.

“Yes,” he said. And they stayed there in the dark, listening to the rain and holding each other.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Their evenings became much quieter, more subdued. And the wintry weather did nothing to help lift their spirits. Hermione researched with Regulus by her side, and Harry stared at a large piece of parchment paper, whenever they weren’t attending to their basic survival needs. It was the third evening after Hermione’s revelation, after the third day of searching for Gryffindor’s sword, after the third day of pointless speculation, when Regulus got a close enough look at the paper Harry had to recognize it.

He couldn’t hold in the burst of laughter. Harry and Hermione looked up at him as if he had finally gone around the bend, the way his good old mother had. “Not crazy,” he managed, holding his hands up. After he had sufficiently recovered, he pointed at the map in Harry’s lap. “Where’d you get the Marauder’s Map?” he asked.

“How do you know about this?” Harry asked him, folding the map up.

“I heard it got confiscated by Filch,” Regulus said.

“You did?” Harry asked incredulously.

“He probably helped it get confiscated.” Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

“Yup,” Regulus chuckled. Harry shook his head, hiding his own chuckling, his expression conflicted. Potter wasn’t sure whether to feel enraged on behalf of his father, or to enjoy the joke with his friend. “It was fun, too,” Regulus added.

Hermione groaned. “Boys,” she said, smacking her head. “I’m going to go find some intelligent conversation.” She made as if to stand from where she was sitting in the middle of the couch.

“What, I’m not good enough?” Regulus asked, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her from getting up.

“Nope,” she said, worming her way out of his grasp and practically dancing out of the room.

“You two – “ Harry said, looking between the door Hermione had just left through, and Regulus. “Is there something I should know?”

“Knock on doors before you enter,” Regulus said seriously. Harry recoiled in horror. “Kidding, kidding,” Regulus reassured him. “I’m sure if there ever is anything you should know, Hermione will tell you.”

Harry nodded uncertainly. “Be good to her,” he said. Regulus nodded seriously.

“I have no intention of doing otherwise.”

A minute later, Hermione huffed into the room, dragging Phineas Nigellus’ portrait behind her.

“That’s your idea of intelligent conversation?” Regulus scoffed. “A portrait?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, placing the portrait on an empty chair. “And you will be quiet. I don’t know – I mean, Snape obviously knows you’re back, but I don’t want anyone else to find out.” She tapped Regulus on the nose before sitting back down beside him. “Just in case.”

Regulus sighed, but he didn’t object when, for many evenings after, Harry or Hermione took the blindfolded painting of his forefather out to pump it for information about the people they had left behind.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was getting near Christmas, and they hadn’t had any breakthroughs, traveling up and down the country, never staying in one place or area too long. Hermione had stolen them some dinner from a supermarket; well, maybe not stealing exactly, since she did insist she left money for the supplies.

It made Regulus miss the days when they still had his ginormous food bags, or the days when they still had Kreacher to cook for them, back at Grimmauld Place, where there were beds, and food, and morning tea, and cake…and Thorfinn Yaxley.

Regulus absent-mindedly wondered if he were still alive as he meandered out of the tent, leaving Harry laying on the floor, contemplating life, and Hermione in a chair deciphering her runic version of the Tales of Beedle the Bard.

He breathed in the cold air, looking down from the hill they were on into the town below, glittering with Christmas lights. He tried not to remember how Christmases had been at his home, tried to focus on the present.

Footsteps crunched through the snow behind him. He tensed, hand creeping to his pocket, until Hermione’s voice calmed him.

“It’s alright, it’s just me.” She walked until she was directly beside him, and laid a hand on his shoulder. They stood there in silence for a few moments, connected only by Hermione’s hand.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hermione finally asked.

Regulus turned to her, bemused. “What?”

“Oh – sorry, muggle thing,” she laughed. “Sickle for your thoughts?”

Regulus cracked a grin. “I assure you my thoughts are worth much more than that.”

“Well, I’d have offered a galleon but I’m afraid we’re all sadly broke.”

“Hm,” Regulus smiled. He looked away, preoccupied. Hermione, genuinely worried now, slid her hand from his shoulder down his arm to hold his hand, turning her face towards his.

“Regulus?” she asked.

He was quiet, looking out upon the town. “It’s Christmas,” he said suddenly. “Or somewhere thereabouts.”

“I know,” Hermione said. “It’s strange, not knowing the exact date.”

“I hated Christmas, growing up,” Regulus said, shaking his head. “Well – at least after Sirius turned eleven. He never got presents after he was sorted into Gryffindor, see…the disappointment of an heir. I was still perfect, perfect Regulus, though…Walburga showered me in presents. I was young, I suppose, although only a little younger than Sirius and it seemed like _thousands_ of presents, sitting under the tree and in my stocking, all for me. But Sirius’ stocking was always empty. I gave him some of my presents the first year, and the second year…the third year, the year before I was to go to Hogwarts, I caught on and attempted to cancel Christmas that year.” Regulus huffed a laugh, shaking his head in derision. “Stupid. Walburga made me open every single one in front of Sirius. I’ll never forget the way he looked at our mother. The look in his eyes…”

“Did he hate her?” Hermione asked quietly.

“No,” Regulus said abruptly. “It was like – like a kicked dog, or puppy. Always…always hoping for a pet, and getting a kick.”

Regulus’ lips pinched together as he remembered what Walburga told him. _“It’s Christmas, darling,” his mother would say. “Good little boys always get presents.”_

He was shaking now. Strong emotions seemed to bring out that foreign magic inside of him, and he had made no attempt to curb his hatred for Christmas.

_{Odious woman.}_ For once, the voice that had Regulus convinced he was crazy agreed with him.

“Regulus?” Hermione’s voice pulled him out of his head, to the present. He turned his head to see her worried brown eyes. She smiled hesitantly, and he realized he was clutching her hand in a death grip. “I can see how Walburga could be enough to put you off Christmas.”

Regulus smiled back, then turned back to the town and sighed. “I wonder what it would be like to celebrate Christmas, instead of considering it an ordeal to get through every single year.”

“Perhaps one day, after…we can have a real Christmas together.”

Regulus glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. She had a secret smile on her face. “I would like that,” Regulus said, feeling the truth of his words in his bones.

A little fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach made Hermione shiver. Quickly, before she could chicken out, she stood on her tip-toes and brushed her lips against Regulus’ cheek.

Regulus stood there, turned to stone with shock. “C’mon,” Hermione nudged, tugging at their linked hands. “It’s cold. Let’s go back to the tent.”

Shaking himself, he turned and followed Hermione back to the tent. Stomping their boots outside, they walked in, only to be attacked by an incomprehensible onslaught of words from Harry’s mouth.

“Regulus, Hermione, I think it’s in Godric’s Hollow – Gryffindor’s sword – Bathilda Bagshot was friends with my parents, my Mum mentioned her in a letter, and I was looking at Hermione’s Beadle book and I saw this! Krum said it was Grindelwald’s mark, and – “

“Stop!” Regulus finally yelled, taking a step back. He turned to Hermione, who looked just as confused as he felt. “What is going on here?”

“I found a mark in Hermione’s book, Krum said it was Grindelwald’s mark, but ignore that for now, we need to go to Godric’s Hollow, it was named for Godric Gryffindor, I think Dumbledore left the sword with Bathilda Bagshot!” Harry spit all of this out, then heaved in a huge breath after the last word.

“What?” Hermione said, stunned.

“We’re going to Godric’s Hollow,” Harry said excitedly. “We’re going to see my home.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	9. Using Someone Else's Magic: Not Ideal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> regulus + salazar slytherin = disaster?  
> also kisses.

Regulus and Harry stood together in the outer room of the tent, right next to the door. They were surrounded by warm muggle clothes, meant to help them fit into their Polyjuice personas.

“I still don’t like this,” Regulus said determinedly, yanking a too-small sweater on. “It seems too…predictable.”

“How is that a bad thing?” Harry asked, stuffing himself into a coat and wrapping a scarf around his neck.

“Because the Dark Lord will be prepared for it!” Regulus exclaimed. “That’s what predictable means, you bloody idiot!”

“Hey!”

“Boys, calm down!” Hermione shrieked, coming into the room in her own winter clothes.

“He called me an idiot!” Harry bellowed.

“Because you are!” Regulus yelled, feeling as if he were going up against an immovable wall. It was strangely reminiscent of arguing with his elder brother.

“See?” Harry pointed an accusing arm at Regulus.

“Be quiet!” Hermione shouted. “Look,” she said, quieter. “I know that this trip wasn’t a unanimous decision, but – Regulus, try to understand. Wouldn’t you want to see the place you spent the first year of your life?”

“Seen it,” Regulus said, squeezing his eyes shut, hands shaking as he tried to control his anger. “Not too impressed with it myself.”

“Oh, you little…” Hermione cut herself off, shaking her head. “We have to do this for Harry,” she whispered to Regulus, Harry pretending not to hear in the background. Moving toward the door, Hermione spoke up in a louder voice. “I’ll be outside, waiting. Make nice, you two.”

She left, the tent flap doing its floppy equivalent of slamming behind her. 

There was a moment of awkward silence, both men focusing on their clothing and not each other. Finally, Regulus sighed. “Godric’s Hollow. We’re really doing this?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, snatching the locket up from a table on his way out, tucking the Horcrux under his shirt. “My only request, or whatever the hell Hermione said last night when she agreed.”

“Want me to wear that?” Regulus asked. Harry looked at him, then shook his head.

“I’m fine.”

“If you decide you’re not,” Regulus began, then, seeing Harry’s face, backtracked. “You know where I am.”

“Thanks.” Harry walked out of the tent to where Hermione was waiting outside with the Polyjuice.

Regulus lingered in the tent, taking deep breaths.

_I can’t do this,_ he thought, pressure building up in his spine and behind his eyes. The familiar symptoms of his magic showed themselves, his hands shaking.

_{What a stupid idea},_ the head-voice added its input. It sounded almost amused. _{I’m rather looking forward to seeing it go wrong.}_

Across the tent, a glass shattered, and Regulus winced.

_Accidental magic,_ he thought in disgust. _What am I, two?!_

Shaking himself, he straightened his coat and marched out of the door.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

This cloak was not made to fit three grown adults.

That was all Regulus could think as he huddled under Harry’s previously unmentioned _invisibility cloak_ (oh, Regulus was _livid_ , he now knew _exactly_ how those idiotic Marauders had gotten away with their stupidity), trying to walk without stepping on Harry’s toes or accidentally touching Hermione’s breasts. He had already brushed his arm against her chest twice and was driving himself mad, trying to remember how many times such a thing could happen before it stopped being considered an accident.

After the _third_ time Regulus stopped in his tracks, effectively halting their caravan. Hermione squeaked as part of her hand popped out of the cloak. Harry turned around and glared at Regulus.

“What?” he asked.

“Are we there yet?” Regulus inquired mutinously. His lips were pressed together.

“No, of course we’re not there yet!” Harry whisper-shouted back. “We’ve barely made it past the center of the town, Potter Cottage is on the edge – “

“Fine,” Regulus snapped. “Let’s just…hurry it up a bit, yeah? This isn’t a safe endeavor.”

“Yes, you’ve said,” Harry grumbled. “Multiple times.”

“Boys, we’re wasting time,” Hermione said in a hushed voice. “Let’s just keep moving.”

Harry and Regulus grunted in the affirmative, and the trio resumed their shuffle-walk.

“How are you?” Hermione asked Regulus quietly, after a couple steps. 

Regulus’ shoulders were beginning to feel the strain of staying in the same, hunched position for so long. “Fine,” he replied roughly.

Hermione looked at him. His expression was tense. Even the polyjuice-altered features couldn’t mar Regulus’ patented three D’s – disgust, disapproval, and disdain. Hermione huffed a laugh at the thought. “I must say, I prefer you unpolyjuiced,” she whispered.

Regulus chuckled, side-eying the younger woman.

“Guys!” Harry hissed. “Shhh!”

“Sorry!” Hermione cringed, grinning at Regulus. The three resumed their shuffle walk through the town, concealed by the cloak.

After what seemed like forever, they finally made it to the edge of Godric’s Hollow.

“Let’s take off the Cloak,” Harry said. Hermione and Regulus exchanged uncertain looks, but allow Harry to uncover them.

Regulus scanned their surroundings, his posture ready for an attack from any corner. Hermione gripped both Harry and Regulus’ hands as they started forward.

“Godric’s Hollow,” Harry breathed.

“Yippee,” Regulus said flatly. “Let’s get in and out.”

Hermione gave him a quelling look. Regulus sighed. “Fine then,” he said, trying to push down the fire that was building. Something wasn’t right here. Something wasn’t safe.

He shook himself, taking a deep breath, cold air chilling his lungs. “Let’s go explore.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“The old woman is creepy,” Regulus muttered in a low tone. He and Hermione were in Bathilda Bagshot’s sitting room. The polyjuice had long since worn off, and Harry had followed the elderly lady up the stairs, presumably to her bedroom. Regulus snorted at the thought.

“Yes, and?” Hermione was roving about the room, inspecting embroidered sofa cushions and yellowing pictures. “We’re here for Harry.”

“Harry should see that the old woman is creepy too,” Regulus shot back. “All that hissing…and he acted like he understood her too…” Regulus shook his head. He was missing something…a missing piece to the puzzle.

_{Fool.}_

Regulus shuddered, and turned away from Hermione, rubbing his temples. _No,_ he thought, panicking slightly, _not now. It can’t happen now._

“Look.” Hermione’s voice startled him out of his head. He whipped around to face her. She was standing over a book on Bagshot’s side table.

“What is it?”

“The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore,” Hermione read the title. She looked up at Regulus, confused. “What do you suppose that’s about?”

“The life and lies of Albus Dumbledore, one would presume,” Regulus snickered. “Who wrote it?”

Hermione shook her head, checking the author. “Rita Skeeter,” she snarled.

“Well, it seems that woman is the only person I know of in this time who doesn’t see Dumbledore through rose-coloured glasses,” Regulus commented. “I should speak with her. Commiserate. Get her autograph.”

“No,” Hermione snapped. “You don’t understand. This is _Rita Skeeter._ Remember, the one from the article in the Prophet? She – she publishes half-truths, or bald-faced lies. And she doesn’t care who she hurts, so long as she sells papers.” Hermione was breathing heavily, her shoulders tensed and her eyes narrowed. Regulus stared back at her.

“Rita Skeeter,” he said quietly. “I remember now. She’s the woman who covered the Tri-Wizard Tournament.”

“What – how do you know that?” Hermione fell back a step, confused.

“I was bored,” Regulus shrugged. “Kreacher found me all the old Prophets. They were all quite enlightening.”

Hermione nodded. She wouldn’t meet Regulus’ gaze. “So…you read about me.”

“Oh, I read about all of you,” Regulus said, turning to inspect a recent photo of Bagshot and the author of the book. “And all the entertaining, news-worthy shenanigans you put yourself through.”

“There weren’t that many that – “ Hermione started, but Regulus was no longer paying attention. Instead, he was squinting closer at the picture.

“Hermione,” he interrupted, standing upright and setting the picture down. “There’s something wrong with Bathilda.”

“What”

_{Something wrong indeed.}_ Regulus shoved away the amused chuckle at the back of his head.

“We need to get to Harry.”

Hermione didn’t question them. She only shoved Skeeter’s book into her beaded bag, and raced toward the stairs. She and Regulus took them two at a time.

Regulus knew that something was off. Some part of him, the part of him that knew old women were generally still coherent and understandable, wasn’t surprised when Harry screamed.

The photo gave it away. In the photo, Bathilda looked…alive.

Hermione didn’t hesitate, rushing up the stairs and into the room where Harry was being attacked by a giant snake. Regulus followed behind her. He felt he could see everything, hear everything, as the two of them tried to subdue the snake that was crawling over Harry.

Silently, Regulus swept his wand to the side, throwing the snake off of Harry. The boy lay motionless on the floor, moaning. Regulus rushed to his side, checking his vitals and grabbing his wand.

“Hermione!” Regulus said harshly. The girl was still making her way across the room. “The Dark Lord will be on his way. We need to go!”

“I know!” Hermione shrieked, reaching his side. Suddenly, that damned snake reappeared, lunging at Hermione. “ _Confringo_!” she yelled as the snake bore down upon her. The spell ricocheted across the room, and Regulus ducked.

A few small, violent pops sounded outside. 

“Hermione, we need to get out!” Regulus yelled, his hands shaking, adrenaline building up. He needed to get somewhere safe, somewhere far away from Hermione and Harry, otherwise he would hurt them. But he needed to know they were safe.

Accidental magic. He wished he knew what it was.

“But the snake, Regulus…!” Hermione cried.

“They’re apparating downstairs, Hermione, we need to get Harry out of here!” The liquid fire was moving through his veins. “Stupefy!” he screamed at the snake that had coiled up, ready to strike. It fell backwards, its long, green body stretched out, unmoving, on the floor.

“Okay, okay,” Hermione said, breathlessly falling to the floor next to Regulus and Harry. She grabbed onto their hands and squeezed her eyes shut.

Nothing happened.

“Hermione?” Regulus said, growing strain in his voice.

She closed her eyes again, her hand squeezing his to pieces. “I can’t!” she said, rising panic in her voice. “Anti-apparition wards, or something, I can’t get us out of here! Harry…” she keened.

The fire and adrenaline was building up, building up…he was going to die here, and Harry was going to die here, and _Hermione_ was going to die here, and the world was never going to be safe…

And he was about to waste his second chance, his chance to leave the world a better place than he had left it before.

“No!” He bellowed, and he could have sworn time stopped for a moment. Then, green and silver magical energy burst out of him, hitting an invisible barrier.

Not just hitting it. Exploding through it. Regulus could feel the magic’s target give, then fall, and fail. Frantic shouts from the Death Eaters downstairs confirmed his suspicions.

“Now, Hermione!” he croaked, shaking the girl. She looked up at him disbelievingly. “Now! We have to go now!”

Some part of her understood what he was saying, and she once again grabbed onto Regulus and Harry tightly. She squeezed her eyes shut, and concentrated.

_{…yes, quite an **interesting** development indeed…we should explore this anomaly in more detail, yes?}_

Regulus moaned, the sound strengthening quickly into a scream. The last thing he felt before he was overtaken by unconsciousness was the squeeze of apparation.

A moment later, a Death Eater charged into the room. But it was too late; the ward had been broken, and the three entrapped people were gone. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Regulus shot up into a sitting position, gasping himself awake. His wand arm was out, and his grey eyes darted frantically around his surroundings.

His surroundings…which were nonexistent. He was floating in some sort of dark matter, space all around him. Down was up, and up was down, or maybe it was the other way around – Regulus couldn’t tell. Gravity and time were meaningless here.

“Well, well, well…” A voice echoed through the darkness. “If it isn’t the prodigal son – or something of the sort, I suppose.”

Regulus screamed. The voice sliced through his brain, turning his cells to putty and his thoughts to mush. “Stop!” he yelled. “Stop!”

“Fine.” The booming voice reduced, echoes fading away to nothing, until it was only a normal sound. A human voice.

“Who – who are you?” Regulus asked. He glanced around blindly, hoping for a glimpse of this disembodied voice.

“Who am I?” it whispered. “I am you.”

“Stop it,” Regulus gulped. “Stop. Who are you, really?”

“Really?” the voice asked. “Before I inhabited your woefully human body?”

“Yes,” Regulus hissed with impatience. “Who?”

The voice was silent for a moment. Then it returned, an amplified hissing sound that vibrated through Regulus’ very bones.

_“Salazar Slytherin…”_

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Regulus shot up into a sitting position, gasping himself awake. His wand arm was out, and his grey eyes darted frantically around his surroundings.

His breathing slowed as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, taking in the familiar sight of the bottom of Harry’s bunk. He was back in the tent. Back in safety. Which meant Hermione - Hermione had gotten them out? Was she okay? Alive?

Visions of stunners sent just at the time of apparation, green lights of Avada Kedavras stabbing through Hermione’s heart just before she popped out of view –

“Hermione,” Regulus said, his voice raspy with disuse. “Hermione!” He pulled himself out of bed and stumbled to the doorway. “Hermione!”

“Regulus?” Hermione’s voice responded. A clattering of footsteps accompanied the sound, and shortly after she tackled him with a hug. “Regulus – you woke – I was so afraid – “

She was squeezing him so tight Regulus was surprised he could still breathe, burying her face in his chest and inhaling. Regulus returned in kind, enveloping her in his arms and holding her.

“I’m okay,” Regulus breathed. “You’re okay?”

Hermione pulled back, just enough to look Regulus in the eye. “I’m okay,” she said quietly.

It was silent, just Hermione and Regulus in this moment. She was so close, her scent surrounding them both. He inhaled, feeling light-headed and dizzy, staring into her wide brown eyes. His gaze darted to her mouth as she wet her lips.

_Come fly with me, Regulus…just a little while, no one will notice…_

Hermione was here. Hermione was now.

Time itself seemed to freeze as Regulus leaned down, his lips crashing into his Hermione’s.

She gasped, her lips parting as her hands reached up, arms winding around Regulus’ neck and her hands twining into his hair. It was as soft as she’d ever imagined it to be in her hands, and the scruff that he had neglected to shave scratched her chin as he deepened the kiss.

Hermione moaned, the sound swallowed by Regulus’ lips. He pulled her close, her body flush against his as he stumbled back against the wall, supporting her. With a gasp, she pulled away, breathing heavily.

“Regulus,” she said breathily, “I – “

“OH MY GOD!” a loud exclamation interrupted her. Hermione froze, squeezing her eyes shut. Regulus’ satisfied silver eyes slid past Hermione to the doorway to the communal living room. Harry was standing there, a silhouette in the dark hallway against the bright room behind him.

“Hello, Harry,” Regulus greeted the other man cheekily.

“I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO KNOCK TO WALK INTO THE HALLWAY!”

Hermione was shaking in Regulus’ arms. He peered closely at her face. Her eyes were still shut, and it took him a minute to realise she was attempting to suppress her laughter.

Regulus chuckled. “How about we all go into the living room,” he proposed, “and you two can catch me up on what’s happened?”

Harry groaned, spinning on his heel to re-enter the room. “I want you on separate couches!” he called behind him.

Regulus looked down at Hermione, reaching out to gently tip her chin up. “I’m sorry if I was out of line,” he said seriously, making as if to step around her. “Most improper. I apologize.”

Hermione grinned, a quicksilver smile that darted across her face. She grabbed Regulus’ hand, and stood on her tiptoes, stealing a quick, chaste kiss. “Don’t.”

Still holding his hand, she led the way to where Harry was waiting.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Regulus exhaled, falling back onto the couch cushions as Harry and Hermione wrapped up their sorry tale. They were all sitting in the living room, Regulus and Hermione on the couch facing the fire, the kitchen behind them. Harry was sitting in the sole armchair against the wall, claiming he could better supervise the two of them from that vantage point.

“…I only woke up yesterday, you haven’t missed much,” Harry was saying.

“Still, you’ve been out almost four days, Regulus,” Hermione said, worry coloring her voice. “That’s a long time, Regulus. We should – I don’t know – go to the hospital?”

“Yes, the hospital funded and managed by a government that’s been entirely taken over by our mortal enemy’s evil minions,” Harry said sarcastically. “There’s nothing we can do about it, Hermione, except try to figure out what happened and prevent it from happening another time.”

“What do you suppose caused it?” Hermione asked suddenly, swiveling on the couch to face Regulus. “Magical exhaustion?”

Regulus tensed, turning away almost unperceptively. “Yes, that’s probably it,” he said, breath catching.

_{Of course it is.}_ Even in his own mind, that voice sounded sarcastic. _{Only, it wasn’t **your** magic exhausted, now, was it?} _

“Regulus?”

“Ah – sorry, I’m fine,” Regulus said, blinking rapidly as he forced a smile on his face. Hermione smiled back, the worry fading a little bit. “Just…still processing what happened, I guess.”

Harry leapt to his feet, darting towards the kitchen table. Hermione and Regulus twisted around on the couch to watch him.

“And that’s another thing,” Harry exclaimed, continuing a train of thought he hadn’t shared with the other two. He was digging around in Hermione’s beaded bag, his arm disappearing in the depths.

Hermione and Regulus exchanged a glance. “What is?”

Harry’s face brightened slightly as he found whatever it was he had been searching for. He withdrew his arm from the bag, bringing a thick book out with it. He stalked back around the couch and dropped the book on the coffee table. Regulus winced at the booming _slam._

“Rita Skeeter wrote a book,” Harry growled. “About Dumbledore.”

“ _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ ,” Regulus read. “I remember this…thank you for grabbing me a copy, Hermione.”

Hermione swatted him. Looking up, Regulus had to suppress a smirk. He wouldn’t be surprised to see steam coming out of Harry’s ears, the way he was scowling.

“What about it?” Regulus prompted the other man.

“It’s slander,” Harry spat. “She’s spouting drivel, trying to blacken Dumbledore’s name now that he’s dead, and anyone who could or would defend him is either dead or imprisoned or in hiding.”

Regulus carefully opened the cover, inspecting the first page. “Have you read it?”

“No!” Harry shouted, looking disgusted at the thought. “I won’t – I won’t have my memory of him tainted.”

“With what? The truth?”

“Regulus,” Hermione interrupted him, placing a calming hand on his knee. She looked up at Harry, who was still standing on the other side of the coffee table. “I’ve read some of it,” she said quietly. “It’s not all false, Harry.”

Harry deflated. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Regulus was still looking at the book. He had flipped through the pages, until a moving picture opposite a letter in Dumbledore’s hand caught his attention. “I suppose she means that Dumbledore _was_ friends with Grindelwald,” he mused.

“WHAT??” Harry bellowed. Regulus silently turned the book towards him, leaving it open to the same page. Harry paled as he looked at it.

“That’s – I know that boy,” he blurted out.

“What?” Hermione leaned over, pulling the book back towards her to look at the photo. “How do you know him? This photo was taken over fifty years ago, Harry.”

“It was in a dream – a while ago, just before Bill and Fleur’s wedding, I think Volde – “

“DON’T say it!” Regulus shouted, jumping to his feet and slamming a hand over Harry’s mouth.

Harry pushed Regulus’ hand off, green eyes furious. “I think _You-Know-Who_ is – or was – looking for him.”

Hermione stood too, cradling the book in her arms. “Was it a vision, Harry?” she asked urgently. “Can you still see into his mind? Is it still happening? I knew I should’ve learned more about Occlumency, I – “

“Hermione!” Harry yelled, interrupting her. She stopped talking abruptly, staring at him mutinously, her hands balled into fists. “I’m _fine,”_ Harry said firmly. “I’m fine. I just – “ He shook his head, and turned on his heel, walking back into the kitchen.

Regulus fell back to sit on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his temples. He could hear the tap of Harry’s worn out shoes on the linoleum as the man paced back and forth in the kitchen. Hermione sat beside Regulus and placed a hand on his back. Looking back at Harry, she patted Regulus’ shoulder.

“Hem.” Hermione coughed. Regulus didn’t move from where he was leaning on his knees, staring into the fire.

“Hem,” she coughed again, louder. Slowly, Regulus raised his head to glance at her. She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head and nodding meaningfully in Harry’s direction. Regulus’ shoulders slumped. He sighed, and nodded in acknowledgement, pulling himself to his feet and walking towards Harry.

He stopped Harry in his pacing, slapping a hand on his shoulder and guiding him towards the door. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s walk it off.”

Harry didn’t protest as Regulus led him out the door. They walked a little way away from the tent, the flap falling closed behind them. Regulus stopped once they were what he deemed an acceptable distance from the tent – close enough to still be in the wards, but far away enough that Hermione would find it difficult to eavesdrop.

“Talk,” Regulus said firmly, folding his arms and squaring his shoulders. He left his wand where he had stashed it earlier, up his sleeve. “What’s this really about?”

Harry shook his head. “I hate Rita Skeeter.”

“And?” Regulus prompted. “I know her Dumbledore book can’t be the only thing bothering you.”

Harry’s brows furrowed in consternation. “She doesn’t just make up what she writes, you know?” he said. “She gets it from somewhere, and twists it up into a bouquet of nasty lies and rumours and half-truths.”

“How do you know?”

“It was fourth year,” Harry sighed. “We were all little shits to each other back then, you know? Go – Merlin, it seems like so long ago now…anyway, Draco – well, I only thought of him as Malfoy back then – was feeding false information to Rita Skeeter.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”

Harry laughed quietly. “Ginny found out,” he said simply. “Dragged Draco off to an empty room and gave him what-for. All I knew at the time, of course, was that the papers stopped gossiping about me for the most part…and Hermione was very smug about her new pet beetle.”

“And shortly after, you realized Draco wasn’t the scum of the earth, and you started a serious friendship that blossomed into a glorious romantic endeavor of love and – “

“No!” Harry interrupted, laughing. “Nothing of the sort.”

Regulus raised both eyebrows this time. “So you’re not upset because of Dumbledore – “

“ – well, of course I’m upset about Dumbledore, he – “

“You’re upset about Draco, and the happenings at the Ministry that did not, as you hoped, result in Draco going on the run with you,” Regulus surmised.

“That – “ Harry paused, taking a breath. “Yeah, that’s mostly accurate.”

Regulus folded his arms, fixing his gaze on the shorter man. “Tell me.”

Harry sighed. “Draco and I – well, we were enemies. He was cruel to my friends, and to me, and I hated him with a violent passion. Less passionate than Ron, I suppose, but still…”

“Mhm,” Regulus prompted.

“And – well – I guess it happened sort of the way you said. Except not quite. Ginny was the one who really introduced me to Draco.”

“Ginny…Weasley?”

Harry nodded. “Her fourth year, she was going through a rebellious phase. Dated a lot of guys, and – well – _dated_ a lot of guys.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Go on.”

“Draco was one of those guys, and I had a little bit of a crush on Ginny. Eventually, I got over my fear of losing Ron, and started dating Ginny. The only thing was, Ginny had been secretly ‘dating’ Draco for a while by then. They genuinely cared about each other…Ginny was Draco’s rock. He wasn’t having the best time of it – his father had just been arrested at the Ministry of Magic, see. And Ginny liked me, didn’t want to lose me, but she didn’t want to lose Draco either.”

Incredulity spread across Regulus’ face. “Potter – are you suggesting you were a part of a ménage-a-trois?”

Harry blushed furiously. “Nothing of the sort,” he denied. “I was dating Ginny, and she was dating Draco, and it was all separate…at first.”

“At first?”

“Like you said,” Harry said. “Draco and I became friends. Then I realized Draco was more important to me – in that way – than Ginny was.”

“And they all lived happily ever after?”

Harry laughed mirthlessly, shaking his head. “He got the Dark Mark,” he said abruptly. Regulus’ smile was wiped off of his face at that. His hand crept to his left forearm without thought. “That last year – I knew something was wrong, but he never volunteered the information, and I never asked.” Harry took a shaky breath. “He showed me at the Ministry. Said that’s why he couldn’t come with – it’s a tracker.”

“It is.” Regulus shook his head.

“Unless you’ve come back from the dead,” Harry agreed. “That’s my sorry story. I guess you’re right – It’s bothering me more than I’d like to admit.”

“Telling a story is the first step to making it just that – a story,” Regulus said. “Nothing haunts you quite as much once you’ve let it all out.”

Harry nodded. “Well, I suppose we ought to get back to Hermione.”

“Please,” Regulus snorted, “Like she hasn’t been eavesdropping this whole time.” The two men laughed, and Regulus clapped Harry on the shoulder as they started back towards the tent. Halfway there, Harry paused. Regulus stopped walking to look back at him.

“Anything the matter?” he inquired. Harry shook his head.

“Regulus – I just wanted to say…well…Thank you.”

Regulus’ brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re welcome?” he replied. “What did I do?”

“This,” Harry said, gesturing back and forth between him and Regulus. “I mean – well – I’m no good at explain this shite – but, it’s easy. Being friends with you. It was always hard with Ron. We were never completely honest with each other, or at least I guess I never felt I could be completely honest with him…anyway, you let me talk to you. And…well, thank you.”

Regulus attempted a smile, repeating, “You’re welcome.”

Harry gave him a half-smile, turning to walk back towards the tent. “See you inside,” he called over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Regulus said absent-mindedly. He turned away from the tent, folding his arms and glaring at the trees. His wand was gripped tightly in one hand. He tried to regulate his breathing, the fizzy, uncomfortable feeling of too much magic in one body surging up within him.

A hand laid on his shoulder startled him, and he whipped around, wand at the ready, breathing heavily. Hermione drew back slightly, worry swimming in her eyes.

“Regulus?” she asked tentatively. Regulus deflated, his wand arm falling to his side. She smiled, stepping forward again. Regulus reached an arm out, and she tucked herself into his side. “How’s Harry?” she asked.

“He’s…processing,” Regulus responded. “I forget how innocent you two are sometimes.”

Hermione pinched his side, and he jumped. “Hey!” he protested.

“Be nice,” she reprimanded him.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Is honesty synonymous with cruelty in these times?”

“It’s always good to have a filter,” she told him. Regulus shook his head, turning and pulling her close. She gladly wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. Regulus buried his face in her hair, inhaling.

The moment was soon over. Regulus felt a familiar tension creeping into his shoulders. “I have to tell him,” he mumbled.

“I know,” she sighed.

“There’s just never a right moment.” Regulus pulled back so he could see her face. “Never.”

Hermione smiled gently. “There’s never going to be a right moment,” she said. “He still needs to know.”

Regulus nodded reluctantly. “Soon,” he promised her. “Soon.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next morning, Hermione deemed it time to move once again. They apparated away from the tiny clearing they were hidden in to another tiny clearing they could hide in. It was called, Hermione informed the two men, the Forest of Dean.

The familiar sense of apparition sent a spasm through Regulus’ body. Upon landing, he stumbled forward a step. Harry didn’t notice, stepping away from the other two to survey the clearing Hermione had delivered them in.

Hermione’s hand tightened on Regulus’, steadying him. He slid a grateful smile over to her.

“There’s a village about a kilometer west of here,” Hermione said, returning his smile. Harry turned around, hands on his hips.

“Should we go gather supplies?”

“I can go.” Hermione was already rummaging through her beaded bag, tossing the tent at Harry. “You set that up. Regulus, can you put up the wards?”

Regulus bowed, stomach churning. “Of course, my lady.” Hermione blushed, and returned her attention to locating Harry’s invisibility cloak in her beaded bag.

“Well,” she said, flinging the cloak over her shoulders. Regulus refrained from snickering as her body disappeared, leaving a floating head. “I’ll be back. Wish me luck.”

“Luck!” Harry called from where he was struggling with Perkin’s tent. With that, Hermione ducked wholly under the cloak, and sped away.

“You sure you don’t need help?” Regulus asked Harry, suppressing a laugh. Harry was somehow attached to the tent by a string, and a pole was up his shirt.

Harry scowled good-naturedly. “I’ll be fine,” he said, waving away Regulus’ concern. “Get the wards up before Hermione gets back.”

Regulus nodded. He took a few steps to the edge of the clearing. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and raised his arms up on either side of him. Clearing his mind, he began to run through the incantations.

As he spoke, he could feel the magic surging up within him, his whole body tingling. A roaring sound filled his ears, and he spoke louder, his words echoing inside his head.

Somewhere, he could hear Harry shouting his name, over and over again. But he ignored it, focusing as he came to the end of the incantations.

Opening his eyes, Regulus saw Harry before him, shaking his shoulders. Regulus attempted to blink the spots out of his eyes, but failed miserably. He inhaled sharply; then the dots overtook his vision, and he collapsed to the ground.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Well.”

Regulus groaned as he heard that horribly familiar, rasping voice.

“What a predicament we have here.”

Regulus opened his eyes, but, as it had been the last time he unwillingly conversed with his head guest, his surroundings were pitch black.

“I don’t want to be here,” Regulus groused. “Send me back.”

A scornful chuckle echoed through the space. “It’s your head,” the voice sneered. “Send yourself back.”

“Look – I don’t know who you are, but –“

“I told you. I am Salazar Slytherin.”

Regulus shook his head. “No. No, you aren’t, I’m just finally going crazy – “

“You’re not.”

“I’m hearing voices in my head when I pass out after performing simple spells. I think I am.”

“You passed out because you exhausted your magic.”

Regulus’ brow wrinkled in confusion. “But…”

“You were using mine.”

“How?” Regulus whispered.

“We are connected, you and I,” the voice – fine, Slytherin – told him. “Your glorious mother did more than bring you back. She brought me back as well, my power, my soul, my everything.”

“Send yourself back,” Regulus hissed. “To wherever you were before all of this.”

“I can’t,” Slytherin spat. “You think I _like_ being here, trapped in this miniscule portion of your mind? If I knew how to send myself back, I _would._ ”

Regulus shuddered. He could feel the heavy darkness around them lightening.

“Wonderful,” Slytherin sneered. He could obviously feel it too. “Back to my cage. Have fun explaining those _impenetrable_ wards to your friends.”

“I – “

But Slytherin was already gone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Regulus started awake with a gasp. He quickly fell back, catching himself on what he deduced was the cushions of their couch.

“Regulus – Regulus!” Hermione was kneeling on the floor next to his head. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Regulus reassured her. “Fine.”

“Regulus, you’ve been passed out for two hours,” Hermione said, panic lacing her voice. “What _happened_?”

“I – I used too much,” Regulus said hoarsely, propping himself up on his elbows. “Too much magic. I tapped into _his…_ ” Regulus stopped, his eyes sliding over to where Harry sat, leaning forward with a worried expression.

“Whose?” Harry asked guilelessly.

“A man’s,” Regulus said quietly. This part he hadn’t even told Hermione. “When I came back…I came back…different.”

“Different? How different? Who is this man?” Harry ran a hand through his hair, standing up and beginning to pace. “Regulus, we need to figure out what happened. How you came back. It’s not a good thing, to hear voices in your head…”

“Harry.” Regulus cut Harry off. Slowly, he rose to a sitting position. “I know how I came back to life.”

Hermione tensed, rising to her feet, focusing on Harry.

“You know?” Harry asked. Regulus nodded slowly. He stood up, standing next to Hermione and facing Harry.

“I came back on June 18th, 1996.”

“That’s…” Harry blinked rapidly. “That’s the day Sirius…”

Regulus nodded. “I know,” he said. “My mother…she was unwell. When Sirius turned seventeen, she placed a curse on us. Whichever one of us died first would be brought back by the second’s death.”

“I – I can’t – “ Harry stared at Regulus blankly. “You killed Sirius?” Regulus flinched.

“Harry, no, of course Regulus didn’t kill Sirius,” Hermione interjected. She stroked the back of Regulus’ hand with a finger. “It was a curse, he didn’t _choose_ to be brought back…”

“You _knew_?” Harry’s voice shook with suppressed emotion.

Hermione winced, realizing her misstep. “Harry, I…”

“Stop.” Harry held his hands up in front of them. “Stop. I – I’m going for a walk.” He stood up stiffly, and stalked toward the exit.

“Harry, I was going to…” Regulus tried. Harry held a hand up, silencing him.

“I trusted you,” Harry spat. “I thought – I’m going to go, now. I’ll be back. Eventually.”

With that, he ducked out the door.

“Harry, you’re still wearing – “ The tent flap closed behind Harry. “Still wearing the horcrux,” Hermione finished with a sigh. Regulus stepped up behind her, gently resting a hand on her hip. She sagged into him, all the tension leaving her at once.

“Are you going after him?” Regulus asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “You are.”

“I am?”

“It’s you he really wants to talk to, Reg.” Hermione twisted around in his arms to face him, resting her hands on his shoulders. “You’re the one he needs to forgive.”

“Which is why you should be the one to follow him,” Regulus said slowly. “To talk to him, and convince him I’m worth forgiving.”

Hermione shook her head again. “He knows you’re worth forgiving,” she said. “He just needs to remember who you are.”

A tremor shivered through Regulus’ body. “Who I am?” he said blankly. “The pathetic ex-Death Eater who died failing to stop the Dark Lord, playing right into his hands, it seems. The man who used his own brother’s death as a means to bring himself back to life, who – “

“Who found the first of the missing horcruxes – “

“By accident – “

“Who saved our lives at Godric’s Hollow.” Regulus fell silent as Hermione stopped speaking. The woman in his arms smiled up at him, brown eyes soft. She raised a hand, resting it on his cheek. “There is nothing to forgive,” she told him. “It was never your fault, and Harry will see that.”

“Eventually.”

“Soon.”

Regulus sighed, breaking eye contact with Hermione. Her hand fell from his cheek to play with his ever-longer hair. “Fine, I’ll go after him.”

Hermione nodded. “Bring your wand. I’ll be here when you – both of you – are ready to get back to work.”

Regulus’ lips quirked to the side. He pressed a kiss to Hermione’s forehead, then to her lips. Pulling away, he smiled. “We’ll be back soon,” he promised. “I will fix this.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she responded. Turning, she watched him follow the path Harry had taken, the path out of the tent.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Outside, Regulus exhaled, his breath making a smoky cloud in the crisp night air. He tugged his coat tighter around him, then pulled out his wand.

“Point me,” he whispered, pushing down that now-familiar feeling of being too full when casting magic. His wand languidly levitated, then spun a few times before settling to point in the direction of more trees. Straightening his coat again with a sharp yank, Regulus began to walk in the advised direction.

The night was darker than Regulus had ever seen it before. Because of the trees, he supposed. Still, it was terribly inconvenient. Regulus swore, stumbling over yet another tree root.

He stopped, hands on his hips, and took a deep breath. The air was cold, shocking his lungs as he breathed in and out, slowly. His wand hovered in front of his face. Regulus avoided looking at it. Even now, a day after the incident, Regulus could feel traces of foreign magic buzzing beneath his skin. And if he tried hard enough, he could sense Slytherin’s soul.

Closing his eyes, Regulus inhaled shakily. He clenched his fists, remembering Harry’s last words to him. Was it possible to mend what had been broken? And so soon, too…

Regulus was just about ready to move on, when he heard a splash from somewhere ahead of him. His wand quivered, and Regulus felt a twinge of uneasiness. Snatching his wand out of the air, Regulus darted towards the sound.

He emerged shortly in a small clearing. In the middle, there was a small pond. The ice on the surface has been broken. Regulus’ eyes widened as he saw Harry’s jacket, abandoned next to the water.

“Idiot,” Regulus swore. He raced to the water’s edge, and sure enough, there was Harry, attempting to reach the bottom of the pool. Regulus tore off his jacket and boots. Not hesitating, he dove into the pond and swam towards Harry.

The horcrux around his neck was choking him. Regulus cursed as he saw Harry’s eyes flutter closed. Grabbing the other man, he began to propel him towards the surface. Halfway there, Regulus was shocked by the sting of metal against his arm. Looking over, he saw a large sword in Harry’s grip.

Reaching the surface, Regulus pushed Harry out before climbing out himself. Harry immediately began gasping for air, and choking on vestiges of water in his system.

Regulus rested his forehead on the grass, panting. Water sluiced down his hair and face.

“Idiot,” he rasped. “What the bloody hell were you doing?”

Harry shook his head. “The sword,” he gasped. “It’s the one I killed the basilisk with…”

“…the one that can kill Horcruxes,” Regulus finished, nodding.

Harry pulled himself to a sitting position, falling against a nearby tree. Regulus sat back on his knees. Their eyes met. Harry’s expression hardened as he seemed to suddenly remember he was upset with Regulus.

Regulus leaned back. “How’d you know it was here?”

“I saw…” Harry shook his head. “I saw a Patronus…I thought it was a stag, my dad, but it didn’t have antlers…”

“A doe?” Regulus asked. “It was a doe Patronus?”

Harry nodded breathlessly, still supporting himself against the tree. “It led me here,” he said, pointing to the pond. “Then…it disappeared.”

Regulus nodded, staring across the water at the shadowed trees. “Severus was here,” he said quietly.

“What – Snape?” Harry struggled to his feet, brandishing the Sword of Gryffindor.

Regulus nodded. “His Patronus is a doe. Because of…” Regulus trailed off, his gaze sliding to Harry’s emerald green eyes.

Harry shook his head. His lips were pressed firmly together, and his eyes emotionless as he pushed off the tree and walked over to a rock. Taking a breath, he unwound Slytherin’s locket from his neck and set it down.

“You might want to take a step back,” Harry cautioned, not looking at Regulus. He altered his grip on the sword, falling into a fighting stance.

Regulus shook his head, hurrying over to stand at Harry’s shoulder.

“Harry, let me, you’re not in the right frame of mind – “

“And how would you know what the right frame of mind is?” Harry demanded. “How many horcruxes have you destroyed?”

“I – “ Regulus shut his mouth, glaring mutinously as Harry advanced on the locket.

“That’s what I thought,” Harry muttered. He crouched before the locket, Regulus standing behind him. “ _Open…”_ Harry hissed

Regulus felt Slytherin stir inside him. _{Abomination…}_ he hissed with cold fury. Regulus flinched and slowly forced up a mind block.

Harry shifted in front of him, adjusting his grip on the sword. An opaque mist began to take shape above the open locket.

“Harry - “ Regulus began, starting forward.

“Shut up,” Harry said tensely. He was wholly focused on the mist. But when it finally took on a solid shape, he froze. His muscles relaxed unintentionally as he stared at the misty form before him.

A beautiful blonde girl just above the locket, smiling down upon the two men.

Regulus was paralyzed as he stared at the vision before him.

“Regulus?” the apparition spoke.

“Who – I don’t know her,” Harry said, confused.

Regulus was shaking. He reached out, and took the Sword of Gryffindor from Harry.

Step by step, Regulus approached the locket. The girl above it stared down at him, her lips curling in a cruel smirk.

“Regulus,” she sighed. “You look so…lost. Do you miss me?”

Regulus shook his head. His lips tightened in a line. “You’re not Marlene,” he said coldly, raising the sword above his head.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. Suddenly, the misty blonde girl the horcrux had projected shifted into the image of a handsome, dark-haired man. A handsome man, with glowing red eyes.

“Ah, Regulus,” the man sighed. “Always so clever.”

Regulus froze, the Sword of Gryffindor held above his head as Tom Riddle’s voice washed over him. Slowly, he looked up. There, before him, was Lord Voldemort, as he was. From before his first death.

“What are you doing with that sword, Regulus?” Riddle sneered. “I _own_ you. Are you going to kill me with it? We both know, you can’t do that. You don’t have it in you.”

Regulus’ hands shook. Now that he knew what to look for, he could feel Salazar Slytherin’s presence unfurling in his chest.

Salazar was not happy. _{Let me kill him}_ he hissed. _{Let me destroy this travesty.}_

_No._

Regulus tensed, focusing on suppressing Slytherin’s formidable power. Surprisingly, the ancient wizard quieted easily.

“Well, well, well…” Riddle said softly. “It appears my little spell did work. Why don’t you let my great ancestor come out to play? Let the kings battle it out, boy. You are nothing but a pawn. You serve no purpose. Without me, you are directionless, you are worthless - ”

With a roar, Regulus slammed the sword to the hilt down into the necklace. A low screech emanated from the locket. Regulus didn’t look as it began oozing some sort of fluid. He held the Sword of Gryffindor in a death grip, panting.

“Regulus,” Harry said quietly. “Regulus, it’s dead. You can let go of the sword now.”

Regulus let out his breath in a whoosh, releasing his grip and stumbling away from the sword. Harry rushed up to the stone, and yanked the sword out of the rock. The necklace, twisted and broken, clattered to the ground. He gingerly reached down and picked up the smouldering remains of the horcrux. He turned and held it out to Regulus.

Harry’s eyes burned with righteous determination as he faced Regulus. “This,” he said fiercely, shaking the locket. “This is wrong. You have purpose, Regulus. You have worth. To Hermione, and…and to me. We never would have gotten so far without your help. And we will never be able to finish this fight without you.”

Regulus stepped forward. “Harry – I – Sirius – “

Harry nodded. His jaw ticked, then relaxed. “I miss him,” he said quietly. “But you did not steal his life. And the lying…I forgive you.”

Regulus nodded seriously. He stepped forward and laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “Thank you.”


	10. Some Small Flirtations Recommended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the deathly hallows - horcuxes = opportune new worries + lovegoods

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The first thing Regulus was aware of was warmth.

It was the middle of winter, and in their little tent on the run, it was hard to maintain a warming charm throughout the night. The trio had grown accustomed to waking up practically frozen.

The second thing Regulus was aware of was Hermione’s hair.

He slowly blinked his eyes open to a mass of golden brown hair over his face. Trying to move smoothly so as not to wake the woman beside him, Regulus reached up and pushed her hair off of his face. Taking a deep breath, he felt a smile bloom unbidden on his face.

Slowly, he rolled over on his side. Hermione’s limbs, which had been wrapped around him, fell to rest on her side. Regulus rested his head on his elbow, quietly appreciating the view.

The past three ‘vacation’ days had done absolute wonders for all of them. After destroying the horcrux, it was as if all of their energy had dissipated. All three of them had been dead on their feet. After sleeping almost twenty-four hours straight, Harry and Regulus had spent some time re-learning how to be friends with each other.

Hermione had spent her time reading and translating Dumbledore’s runic version of  The Tales of Beedle the Bard . Harry had been convinced that the items Dumbledore had bequeathed to them were some sort of key, and the only way Hermione could convince him to take any semblance of a break was to assure him she would be picking up the slack, in a way.

But none of this crossed Regulus’ mind as he gazed at the beauty in his bed. The sunlight from the ill-conceived window flickered across her face, turning strands of her hair into glittering gold, and highlighting the warm hues of her face. As he watched, her eyelashes quivered.

“Take a picture,” Hermione mumbled, her eyes still closed. The corner of her lips twitched with a smile. “It’ll last longer.”

“You’re awake?” Regulus whispered.

“No,” Hermione grumbled, squirming to bury her head under Regulus’ pillow.

Regulus chuckled, the deep sound echoing in the small space.

Hermione’s eyes were open quick as a flash, and she shot up, leaning over Regulus’ to press her fingers against his lips.

“Shhhh,” she warned, flicking her eyes upwards, towards the top bunk. “Harry,” she indicated in a quiet tone.

Regulus snickered again. He stretched up, languidly brushing her lips with his own. Hermione allowed the contact, before pulling away, glancing upwards again nervously.

He grinned. “You’ve been staying with me for the past two nights, and only now you’re worried about Harry?”

Hermione blushed. “Is he asleep?”

“He’s been sleeping in your room,” Regulus said, eyes twinkling. “No amount of money could convince him to sleep in the same room as us.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “At least he’s not sleeping on the couch. I would’ve felt terribly guilty.”

“You know you’re going to have to stop sneaking into my bed,” Regulus said, brushing his nose against Hermione’s. “Eventually Harry’s going to complain.”

“Are you sure that’s not just your outdated morals rising up?” Hermione teased. Regulus smirked, and with a playful growl, he pounced, pressing kisses up her jawline all the way to her lips.

Hermione sighed into his mouth, running her hands up his side until she brushed his ribs. Regulus suddenly squirmed, pulling away with a shout of laughter.

Hermione burst into uncontrollable giggles as he rolled off of her and flopped on his side. He pouted, trying to mask his own amusement. “Just for that, I won’t even try to show you just how up to date my morals are,” Regulus laughed. “It’s not my fault I’m ticklish!”

Hermione’s laughter trickled to a stop, and she wiped her eyes. “I’m definitely awake now,” she informed him. “We might as well get up.”

She made to climb over Regulus and off the bed. Wrapping an arm around her waist, Regulus stopped her in her tracks.

“Nooooo,” he intoned. “Stay…”

“Fine,” Hermione said, falling into a sitting position. “But we have to be productive.”

Regulus raised his eyebrows. He leaned in, brushing noses with her. “I can think of a few ways we can be…productive…without bringing out  The Tales of Beedle the Bard .”

“Hey!” Hermione gently shoved his shoulder. He fell back onto his elbows, grinning at her. “Don’t knock the Beedle. I enjoy reading that book, actually. It’s quite interesting to see how the wizarding world decides to present morals to children. Muggles mostly use princesses.”

Regulus grinned. “C’mon,” he wheedled, “let’s just relax, until Harry comes banging down our door.”

Hermione exhaled, slowly tipping over to lay next to Regulus again. “Ten minutes,” she said, scooting over to tuck herself against his side.

“Mhm,” Regulus hummed, closing his eyes with a smile.

Their peace didn’t last long. After about a minute, Hermione lifted her head. “Regulus,” she said, “the horcrux.”

Regulus furrowed his brow in confusion. “The horcrux? Which one?”

“The one you destroyed,” Hermione said. “How…how did you do it?”

“I stabbed it,” Regulus said blithely. His tone of voice belied the sudden tension in his spine. “With the sword.”

Hermione bit her lip, wondering how to approach this question. “Harry…Harry told me some things, about how the Horcrux behaves,” she began slowly. “He says…he says it fights back. That it – that it shows you…things.”

“It does,” Regulus acknowledged. He felt his jaw clench, and took a deep breath, trying to relax.

“Regulus.” Hermione brushed a hand over his cheek, trying to get him to look at her. “What did you see?”

Regulus inhaled sharply. There was a long pause. Hermione was just about to say  _ never mind, forget it,  _ and move on, when Regulus spoke.

“I saw Marlene,” he said abruptly, staring at the ceiling. Hermione stroked his arm, a helpless desire to soothe his pain welling up in her chest.

“Marlene?” Regulus nodded jerkily, his hair sticking to the pillow with static.

“Who is Marlene?” Hermione prompted.

Regulus sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “She is – she was – she was my…my everything.”

Hermione froze. “Oh?”

Regulus shook his head. “She’s dead. Marlene is dead.”

“But…you love her.”

Regulus sat up suddenly. He didn’t meet Hermione’s eyes as she followed him at a more sedate speed, taking her hand in his. He followed her lifeline with a finger as he began to speak.

“She was a year ahead of me,” he said, his voice stilted, but smoothing out the more he spoke. “One of Sirius’ friends in Gryffindor. A pureblood. That was how I first noticed her. Sirius’ motley crew, and she didn’t stand out because she was a McKinnon. And…she followed the rules.” Hermione hardly dared breathe as Regulus continued his story. “She was, well, beautiful. And, superficial thing that I was, that was the first thing I noticed. Then, her blood status. As we got older, the rivalry between myself and my brother grew. He was always close with Marlene. And I wanted to piss him off. So…I began to court her.”

“Did it work?” Hermione asked. “Was Sirius mad?”

Regulus huffed a laugh. “No, it didn’t work,” he muttered. “Because, hopeless fool that I was…I fell in love with her. I failed in my goal.” He shook his head. “But I still won. Marlene loved me. And I loved her.”

“What happened?” Hermione whispered.

Regulus’ eyes fell to his uncovered left forearm. His Dark Mark was still there, though it was barely visible. “I couldn’t stand up to my parents,” he said softly. “And I lost her. Then, I couldn’t keep her safe…and I lost her for good.”

Regulus looked up, meeting Hermione’s gaze. “There’s something missing,” he said hollowly, his silver eyes seeming to look straight through her. “Somehow, between then and now, I forgot how to love her. Love her memory. I try to remember her face…but…all I see is you.”

Hermione’s shoulders shook, and her eyes burned. She could feel tears forming. “Regulus…”

He reached over, and wrapped his arms around her. Somehow, she found herself straddling his lap, the length of her body pressed up against him, his arms around her and his head buried in her shoulder. A shuddering sigh escaped her, and she ran her fingers through his hair.

Regulus squeezed his eyes tight, the gentle scrape of her nails against his scalp sending shivers down his spine. He didn’t speak. He could still hear his last words echoing through the air, and he could swear that Hermione could hear them too – could hear the unsaid, improbable words enfolded into the ones he verbalized.

_ I love you. _

He couldn’t say it out loud, not yet.

“Regulus…thank you, for telling me. For being honest.”

He heard her voice vibrate in her chest as she spoke. His jaw tensed, and he pulled back. She stiffened, her hands dropping to her sides.

“Did I say something…”

“No,” he cut her off. “Hermione…I haven’t been fully honest.”

She closed her mouth with a snap, a conflicted look on her face. “About what?”

“About the voice.” Regulus took a deep breath. “It is a passenger. I brought someone back with me.”

Hermione’s eyes were wide with horror. “Oh God, Regulus. Who…who is it?”

“Salazar Slytherin.”

A low hum of magic coursed through Regulus’ body. Hermione’s eyes widened. “You’re not serious,” she breathed.

“Merlin, I wish I weren’t,” Regulus winced. “I don’t know how it happened. But that’s the reason I’ve been passing out. I’ve been accidentally tapping into his magic.”

Hermione nodded. “Thus, the broken anti-apparition wards, the overpowered wards around our tent...”

“Yes.”

“Well – hey.” Hermione attempted a small smile. She lifted her hands to Regulus’ face, smoothing out the wrinkles in his forehead. “We can figure this out. We can. I’ll look through my library, and, well, maybe this is a good thing. Maybe – maybe Slytherin can help us?”

“Maybe,” Regulus said slowly. “He doesn’t seem to like the Horcruxes overmuch.”

Hermione smiled, for real this time. “There you go, then.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” Regulus said, resting his forehead against hers. “For someone who’s just found out that their – er…person…is possibly possessed.”

Hermione giggled. She ran her fingers through Regulus’ hair, and lifted his face up to make eye contact with him.

“I think my person has got it under control,” she said. “And if he doesn’t, I know I can help him.”

Regulus smiled, stretching upwards as Hermione leaned down for a kiss. A chaste peck devolved into something practically filthy, as Regulus lay back down, pulling Hermione with him. His hands wandered down her sides, one fitting into the dip above her hip, and the other sliding down to cup her arse. She inhaled sharply against his lips, and Regulus shivered. In one quick movement, he switched their positions, flipping her over so she lay beneath him.

She looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth red, her lips parted slightly. Regulus swallowed, and lowered his mouth to hers, pressing his lips to hers, then to her jaw, then to her neck…Hermione let out a breathy moan as he bit the smooth juncture of her neck and her shoulder.

An unexpected thump against the door made them both jump. Regulus abruptly looked up, and made eye contact with Hermione. Eyes wide, she began to sit up, and he rolled off of her gracelessly.

“Get decent!” Harry’s voice called, slightly muffled by the door. “I’m coming in!”

Less than a second later, he threw the door open.

“Well,” Regulus said drily, winking at Hermione. She bit her lip, grinning. “I’m glad we were already decent.”

“Yes, yes, me too,” Harry said hurriedly, rushing over to the bed and slamming Rita Skeeter’s book down. “Look at the bottom of this page.”

Regulus, exchanging a confused glance with Hermione, complied. “It’s a letter from Dumbledore to Grindelwald. We knew about this already, Harry.”

“Yes, but,” Harry pushed his glasses up his nose, leaning over the book. “Look at the ‘A’ in Dumbledore’s signature.”

Regulus squinted closer. He felt Hermione’s hair brush against his shoulder as she leaned over to look as well.

“That’s – I know that sign,” she said suddenly. “It’s – “

“Grindelwald’s sign,” Regulus finished. Hermione looked at him.

“I was going to say it’s in the  Tales of Beedle the Bard ,” she corrected. “What about it, Harry?”

“I saw it at Bill and Fleur’s wedding,” Harry said excitedly. “Mr. Lovegood, Luna’s father, was wearing a necklace, with this on the chain. Victor Krum said that it was Grindelwald’s mark, but if Dumbledore was using it too, maybe there’s something more to it! I think,” Harry took a deep breath, “I think we should visit the Lovegoods.”

“What – no, Harry,” Hermione said firmly, crossing her legs as she swiveled her body to face him. “We have to focus on our next move against You-Know-Who. This is a symbol from a children’s story book, Harry. We can’t go chasing after fairy tales, right, Regulus?” She turned to Regulus, looking for backup, but the man was staring at the page contemplatively.

“Fairy tales…” he mused. “You know…I don’t think fairy tales are completely fiction. No one’s imagination is  _ that  _ good. I think...I think speaking to this Lovegood fellow could be a good idea.”

Hermione huffed, folding her arms. “And the horcruxes?”

“We’re not getting anywhere with our search just sitting here, Hermione,” Harry said. “At least, if we go to the Lovegoods, we’re doing  _ something.” _

Hermione pressed her lips together, glancing between Harry’s hopeful green eyes and Regulus’ impassive expression. She sighed. “Fine!” she acquiesced, throwing her hands up in the air. “Fine. We’ll visit the Lovegoods!”

“Yes!” Harry yelped. “Er – I mean – I’ll go start packing up.” Snatching up Rita Skeeter’s biography, he rushed out of the room.

Hermione turned to Regulus, her eyes narrowed. “This is a very bad idea,” she told him.

He shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “But if it isn’t, it’s a very good idea.”

She rolled her eyes as he hopped off the bed, grabbing a shirt off the floor. “Just think,” he said, turning to smirk at her, “If it turns out horribly, you get to say ‘I told you so’!”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“May I say ‘I told you so’ now?” Hermione grumbled. Regulus smirked at her. She scowled back, hunched into her oversized overcoat, her hair standing out from her head. He tugged a curl, grinning.

“No,” he said. “Our trip hasn’t been entirely a waste.” He pointed at Harry, who was jogging back to them through the foliage. “Look, we got to exercise him.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Regulus’ arm brushed her shoulder as he moved to stand a little closer. For all his jokes, he was on edge. His wand was still hidden in his sleeve, for now, but he could palm it with remarkable ease. Grey eyes darted around, even as he spoke with Hermione, searching for a threat. Because there was a threat - there had to be a threat. If there wasn’t, then he must be truly going insane, or at least dipping into as of yet untapped reserves of paranoia. His hand hovered over Hermione’s, and as Harry drew closer, Regulus leaned slightly toward him, ready to grab them both and apparate out of there at the first sign of trouble. 

Harry panted as he slowed to a stop beside the pair. He turned a full circle, bewildered. 

“I don’t understand,” he breathed. “It was here, I swear it was.” He lifted his hands, then dropped them against his sides. “It was here.”

“Well…” Regulus and Hermione exchanged a glance, and Regulus clapped Harry on the back. “You saw it from a distance, didn’t you? You never actually visited. You could’ve been wrong.”

Harry shook his head. “No, no, I wasn’t wrong - I can’t have been wrong.” He took a step away from Regulus, running his hands through his hair. “Damn...if I’m wrong…”

“Why don’t we camp here tonight?” Hermione suggested, examining their surroundings. “We’ve got a creek somewhere thataway, right? Then someone can make a run into the village, pick up a few supplies, and we can regroup.”

Regulus nodded, turning to Harry. “Yes, I think -”

“We did regroup!” Harry was gripping his hair with alarming intensity. “We regrouped, and this was the logical next course of action! Visit the Lovegoods at the Rook, and get answers! The Deathly Hallows!”

“But, Harry…” Hermione took a step forward, Regulus standing silent at her shoulder. “Harry, maybe this is a good thing! The Deathly Hallows are a fairy tale. We have no proof that they exist, whereas Horcruxes -”

“No proof?” Harry exclaimed. He fumbled with his pockets, finally reaching for the pouch around his neck, dragging out a corner of his invisibility cloak. Regulus clenched his jaw. There was a manic energy to Harry’s movements, positively shaking with the possibility of a psychotic break, or maybe just a mental breakdown. 

Harry shook the corner of the invisibility cloak at Hermione. “Proof, Hermione, proof right here -”

“Harry, your Cloak is a work of art, but its mere existence does not constitute proof that Death itself, a concept, gifted it to a real man -”

Regulus took a step away, anxiously checking behind him for the sixteenth time in a matter of minutes. Harry and Hermione continued to have it out, clearly unaware that their volume continued to increase with every exchange. Regulus contemplated the idea of beginning to put up the wards now, and asking forgiveness if they decided against it later, rather than standing and waiting for their shrill argument to attract unwanted attention. 

Attention. Regulus huffed. They had left the town behind - not as far behind as Regulus may have wanted, but still far enough that he definitely felt paranoid, thinking of attracting attention. 

They were polyjuiced. They were fine, no matter that they were discussing Hallows - and great Merlin, he would think Hermione would have the sense not to bring up  _ Horcruxes  _ in such a public area - the point was, Regulus was paranoid, and they were  _ fine. _

Regulus groaned as a sudden prickling behind his eyes reminded him of Slytherin’s -  _ Salazar frickin Slytherin’s _ \- presence in his brain. He could practically feel Slytherin shifting uneasily. Regulus turned away from Hermione and Harry, rubbing his temples. He hoped Slytherin would take mercy on him and not inflict a headache this time around.

_ Paranoia is not a bad thing,  _ Slytherin whispered. Regulus rubbed his hands together, magic pulsing at his fingertips. The hair on the back of his neck prickled.  _ Not a bad thing at all. You do know that you are being watched, yes? _

Regulus stiffened. 

_ Ah,  _ Slytherin murmured, dark amusement woven through his voice.  _ Do you need justification? It’s not paranoia. _

In a whirl of movement, Regulus turned and raced back towards Harry and Hermione. 

“- such an abysmally bad idea, I told you - Regulus? Regulus, what is it?”

Regulus regulated his breathing, inhale, exhale, looping Hermione’s arm into his left and reaching out to grip Harry’s wrist with his right.

“We’ve got to go,” he said, his eyes darting around the clearing, searching for something, anything…

“Regulus?” Harry’s earlier panic had given way to a fully formed, solid worry.

“Someone’s here,” Regulus whispered, still scanning the clearing, the trees, the deep green undergrowth. “Time to Apparate. Back to the Forest of Dean?”

“We can’t go back,” Harry hissed. “No going back. Only forward.”

“I can’t think of anywhere else to go!” Regulus growled. “Hermione?”

“Do we have a moment?” she said in an undertone. “If I could just get out the map, I’m sure I could find -”

A red light flashed, and Hermione suddenly sank to the ground, unconscious. In the same moment, Regulus’ eyes picked out the small discontinuity in the vegetation that Disillusionment always caused, and shouted, “ _ PROTEGO!” _

The glowing shield enveloped the three on all sides. Harry fell to his knees, rolling Hermione onto her back and checking her pulse. Regulus, both hands out at his sides, held the shield up by force of will. He spared a moment to acknowledge the fact that his wand was still in his sleeve. 

_ Interesting, _ he thought, and he could feel Slytherin’s silent agreement. With that, he compartmentalized. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit shit shitshitshitshit…” Harry muttered, checking Hermione over and over again compulsively. “She’s alright, I think,” he finally said to Regulus. “Just stunned.”

“Then rennervate her,” Regulus said through gritted teeth. “And let’s get the hell out of here. Forest of Dean doesn’t sound so bad now, does it?”

Harry huffed. “No,” he allowed, squirming in order to remove his wand from a well concealed pocket. He aimed it carefully at Hermione.  _ “Rennervate.” _

Hermione wasted no time, bolting up right immediately. Her wide eyes made eye contact with Harry. “Shite,” she said.

“How very eloquent,” Regulus snarked. A bead of sweat slid down his forehead, escaping his hairline. “Can we leave now, please?” 

It was too quiet, given the rapidity of the first attack. Regulus’ spine tingled with uneasiness. 

“Right, yes, the map…” Hermione said breathlessly, grabbing her beaded bag. Regulus cursed. This was taking far too long, and in the meantime, he had lost track of the disillusioned figures.

“Harry.” His voice rumbled in his chest, too contained to be anything other than a warning. 

Harry started, tearing his gaze away from Hermione, and sparing a glance for Regulus’ hard grey gaze over his shoulder. “Right - uh, Hermione, let’s just go back, yeah?”

She looked up at him, bemused. “I thought you didn’t want that.”

“Yeah, well…” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “It appears we might be under attack?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “A very lazy one, if we are.”

“Hermione, you were stunned!” Regulus spat. “Merlin, can we just leave, please?”

“Don’t go.”

The new voice seemed to echo, from right behind him. Regulus felt the shield give, then finally fall. He slipped his wand into his hand and slashed it through the air, a curse on the tip of his lips when Hermione stopped him, her hand a minute pressure on his wand-arm.

There was a girl, standing just beyond where Regulus’ shield would have been, behind him. Long, blonde hair cascaded down her back, floating slightly in the air around her. She stood, leaning forward, on her toes - as if she were about to take flight, and defy gravity to float above them. 

“Luna?” Hermione asked. Her voice was soft, almost like she was afraid if she spoke too loud, she would frighten her away. Hermione turned her head, meeting Regulus’ eyes.  _ Luna?  _ he mouthed. She shook her head, pursing her lips. Her eyebrows crouched over her eyes, concern etched into her features.

Harry was jubilant. “Luna!” He stepped towards her, grinning. “We were looking for you. Or, your father, I suppose.” His brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t you be at Hogwarts?” He paused, before taking another step towards her. “Luna -”

Suddenly, he stopped, his foot suspended in midair, about to take another step. Luna watched as Harry dropped his wand, hands slowly lifting themselves up in the universal symbol of surrender. 

“Harry -” Hermione started forward, but Harry held up a hand to stop her. She froze, Regulus stumbling to a stop beside her, his wand trained on Luna. 

“Hermione, Regulus, I’m fine,” Harry said in a measured tone. “Please lower your wands.” 

“I don’t think so,” Regulus said, energy buzzing across his skin. “Tell me what is going on here.” This last was aimed at Luna, who smiled serenely. 

“I believe that you’ve found what you are looking for, Mr. Black,” she said. “Have you?”

“That depends,” Regulus said warily, his wand steady. “What have I found?”

“Hmm,” Luna hummed, her attention returning to Harry. “Darling, will you let go of the disillusionment? I don’t think it helps us anymore.”

Regulus’ eyes narrowed. Carefully, he picked out the silhouette of a person, standing in front of Harry. “No,” he muttered, “I don’t suppose it does.” He twisted his hand, raising it to point towards said person. 

_ Interesting, very interesting. Do try not to die, I suppose.  _

A shiver ran down Regulus’ spine.  _ Shite,  _ he thought.  _ That’s not a good prospect. _

_ For you, perhaps. _

There was a long pause, Luna gazing placidly at the seemingly empty space before Harry. 

Hermione’s gaze darted back and forth between Luna and Harry. Regulus watched Hermione. 

There was finally a hiss, and a voice muttered, “ _ Finite.” _

A woman appeared in the space in front of Harry, her wand pressed under his chin. Hermione blinked, trying to reconcile the image before her with one she recognized. 

“Ginny?” Harry gaped at the wild eyed redhead before him.

Her eyes narrowed, but her wand never wavered. “Who are you?”

“I told you, Ginny,” Luna said dreamily. “It’s Harry.”

“It doesn’t look like Harry.”

“Looks can be deceiving. You know that, Ginevra. They were referring to each other by their real names long before they knew we were here.”

“That doesn’t mean anything -”

“Ginny?” Hermione’s wand hand had dropped to her side, and she took a step forward, dazed. “Are you - is it really you?”

Ginny turned a wary eye on Hermione. Harry, wisely, still did not move. “No,” Ginny said. “I don’t know you.”

“You do, Ginny!” Hermione insisted. “Last year, you were trying to get Harry’s attention, and I suggested you date around and show him that you’re not just going to wait for him to notice you, and you said it would never work, but then it did, and you dated, and -”

“Stop,” Ginny choked out. 

“And we dated,” Harry said quietly, continuing for Hermione. “Except you were already dating someone, weren’t you? But I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind, Ginny, I loved you all the same.”

“Stop!”

Regulus checked on Luna. She was still standing in the same place, watching with mild interest, a benevolent overseer to the controlled chaos. 

Hermione began to take another step towards Ginny. The woman dug her wand into Harry’s throat, and he let out a surprised rasp.

Regulus reached out, catching Hermione’s hand and stopping her in her tracks. “They’re polyjuiced,” he said, meeting Ginny’s eyes. “It should wear off soon.”

Hermione nodded. “About ten minutes.”

“And you?” Ginny asked, a new tension in her voice. “Are you polyjuiced?”

“No,” Regulus denied. “I won’t be recognized.”

Ginny huffed, incredulity spreading over her face. Her wand dropped an infinitesimal bit, and Harry relaxed marginally. “Merlin, Sirius,” she said. “Your face was plastered all over the Prophet for a year straight, and you think you won’t be recognized?”

Harry let out a small sound, and Hermione stumbled backwards. Regulus felt like he had been punched in the gut. “I’m not Sirius,” he managed. “I’m - I’m his brother. I’m Regulus.”

As if on cue, the polyjuice that had slowly been wearing off over the past couple minutes melted away completely. Hermione and Harry, unquestionably themselves, stood before Ginny and Luna. Ginny lowered her wand abruptly.

Regulus stood, looking the same as he ever did, unquestionably himself. 

“I don’t understand,” Ginny breathed. In a quick movement, she reached out, pulling Harry into a tight embrace. A hand beckoned Hermione to join them. “I don’t understand - who is he, again? If he’s not Sirius? Why are you guys here?” She released them, taking a step backwards towards Luna, and snagging the blonde’s hand. Regulus watched Luna slowly lose blood flow to her fingertips, but she didn’t give any indication of feeling it. 

Luna smiled. “We should go inside, for the questions,” she directed. “There are so many.”

“Inside?” Harry asked blankly. 

“Yes.” Luna reached out, pulling all four of them in. “The Rook can be found at the end of the road, before the creek.”

Regulus wouldn’t want to navigate using those directions, but they worked quite well as a code. When they pulled back from the impromptu huddle, a towering, castle-like mansion stood a little ways away. Ginny grinned, wandering towards it. She pushed open the gate and entered, Luna behind her. Harry, after giving Hermione and Regulus a quick once-over, went after the couple.

“Ah,” Hermione said, looking up. “The Rook.” Regulus nodded, allowing a small smile to grace his features. 

“Aptly named,” he said. “I wonder if the Lovegoods play a lot of chess?”

Hermione shrugged, tucking her wand away. Regulus followed her lead. She tugged his arm over her shoulder, and walked into the garden. “It seems as likely as anything else they might play,” she mused. “I imagine the current Lovegoods didn’t name it, though. It seems like it’d be an ancestral home.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, looking down at her. “I wouldn’t know,” he said. “I didn’t exactly mix with any of the past Lovegoods.”

Hermione’s lips lifted in the corners. “I know,” she sighed. “Snob.” She elbowed him in the ribs. He jumped, inelegantly, away from her. 

“Hey!”

Hermione laughed, the sound clear and bright and happy. Regulus’ smile bloomed at her unexpected joy. He reached out, and twined his arms around her waist, pulling her in. Her eyes sparkled up at him, and he leaned down, resting his forehead on hers. 

“How do you plan on explaining me to your friends?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, fighting a smile. “Hi Luna, Ginny, please ignore the illegally resuscitated elephant in the room while we ask you all sorts of specific questions.”

Regulus smirked. “I imagine that would go over well.”

“It would indubitably end in a duel,” Hermione giggled. Regulus’ shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, and he tilted his head, impulsively pressing a kiss to her lips. 

She immediately leaned into him, slinging her arms over his shoulders, one hand slipping into his hair. He deepened the kiss, his hands sliding around her waist. She shivered. 

Hermione sighed as he pulled away, her hands playing with the hair at the back of his neck. “I feel so giddy,” she said. “All this time, we’ve been so worried...and now, we know that at least two of our friends are safe.”

Regulus hesitated to respond. There was something about the two, something in their eyes. “Hermione...I think you should be prepared,” he warned her.

“Prepared? For what?”

“Just in case the story those girls have to tell is not one you want to hear.”

Hermione froze, her gaze searching his. Quietly, she nodded, a minute movement. “Yeah,” she said. “Yes.”

“Hermione? Regulus?” Harry had stopped ahead of them, waiting in the doorway. His face was serious, and he had settled - no more excess energy zinging off of him, or fuzzy edges. “They’re waiting inside,” he said. “We’ve got to catch them up.”

Regulus winced, glancing at Hermione. He raised an eyebrow. “Wonder how long he was there.”

Hermione grimaced, a twist of her lips that was meant to be a smile. They broke apart, Regulus’ hand following to brush the dip of her back. They walked towards Harry, joining him on the small porch. 

Harry didn’t smile as they joined him. “Difficult conversations ahead,” he observed.

Hermione folded her arms, her chin dipping down. “It shouldn’t be too hard,” she said. “We can trust them with most of the secrets.”

“Ginny’s going to ask about Ron.”

Regulus nodded. “I’ll step back for that one.”

Harry took a deep breath. “She’s going to ask about Draco.” His green eyes glimmered with a trace of fear. 

Regulus reached out, clasping Harry’s elbow. Hermione grabbed his hand. “We’re here,” he promised. “Whatever happens.”

Harry bobbed his head. He and Hermione locked eyes. “Whatever happens,” he said.

Gone was the bright, happy girl Regulus had held in his arms minutes ago. Hermione’s jaw was set, and in her eyes, Regulus could see the adamant determination that had saved Harry’s life too many times to count. 

“Whatever happens,” she swore, “we’re here.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“That’s...quite a story.”

Regulus focused his eyes on the floor, elbows resting on his knees. How Luna and Ginny understood the combination of Hermione’s spew of information and Harry’s non-linear storytelling, he had no idea. But, they seemed to have caught the gist of Regulus’ time traveling, death defying shenanigans and his association with Harry and Hermione.

“It’s all true.” Regulus looked up. Ginny was perched on the side of Luna’s armchair, her shrewd gaze examining him. Hermione sat in the chair behind his stool, and Harry sat on the other side of a small table. All the furniture in the room seemed arbitrarily placed, and chosen. 

“I can’t believe Walburga would do something like that,” Ginny said. “I can’t believe that anyone would do such a terrible thing.”

Regulus snorted. “You didn’t know my mother,” he said. “She was insane, legitimately insane.”

“All the inbreeding,” Hermione interjected. Regulus rolled his eyes.

“Yes, the inbreeding.”

Ginny shook her head slowly. “That ritual should be buried,” she stated. “It’s the darkest magic I can conceive of.”

Harry winced, squinting at Regulus. He jerked his chin towards Hermione. Her warning glare was enough to scare even the bravest crusaders off. It was clear. They were not to tell Ginny and Luna about the Horcruxes. 

“Well,” Hermione exhaled, clasping her hands together. “That’s our story. Up until now, anyway. I…” She trailed off, exchanging a nervous glance with Harry. 

“Would you like to hear our story?” Luna asked, looking at Harry intently. 

Harry swallowed, clearing his throat. His fingers tapped an irregular rhythm against his thigh. “Very much so, yes.”

Ginny stared straight ahead of herself, an alarming blankness in her eyes. Her hand clutched Luna’s. 

“I was - Mum and Dad decided not to send me to school,” she began, with a shaking smirk. “Lucky for me, I suppose. We apparated out of the Ministry, that day - the day you came for us - and we went to Aunt Muriel’s, like you suggested. But we didn’t stay there long, Mum was not -  _ is  _ not - coping well with the war, and Aunt Muriel was on her nerves. So we went to stay with Bill and Fleur. They have a Fidelius around Shell Cottage, Bill’s the Secret Keeper...it seemed pretty safe.”

Harry’s head was bobbing in a perpetual nod. “Good, good.”

Hermione, however, was eyeing Ginny. “Shell Cottage is pretty small, isn’t it?” she asked neutrally.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Oh, Merlin, yes. I had to get out of there. I convinced Dad to let me go to the Leaky Cauldron, just to get some take out. Polyjuiced and everything, so I was safe. I got in and out pretty well, but while I was there...well, I heard some Death Eaters, or sympathizers, or Snatchers...I don’t know what they were, but they were talking about Luna.” 

Ginny lifted the hand that was clasped in Luna’s, looking at the blonde. “I heard just enough...I knew I had to do something. So, I may have stolen a wand...then I went home, and tried to think of a plan. The day the Hogwarts Express was going back to Hogwarts after break, I still hadn’t come up with anything better than ‘try to apparate out before Mum or Bill notice’.”

Harry huffed. “That wouldn’t have worked.”

Ginny snorted. “Of course not. Luckily, Ron came home that day,” she smiled waterily. “To Shell Cottage, that is. I don’t think he was expecting to see Mum and Dad there. He thought they were still at Aunt Muriel’s.”

Hermione looked down, biting her lip. “We didn’t mean to turn him out,” she said.

“I know,” Ginny reassured her. “Ron is - Ron can be difficult. Anyway, it worked out. Mum was too busy biting his head off to worry about where I was. I sneaked out, and found a way to the Hogwarts Express.”

“There were quite a lot of wrackspurts about,” Luna interjected. “I was distracted. That, and Daddy had told me he had tracked down a horn of a Crumple-Horned Snorakack.”

“I was almost too late,” Ginny whispered. “They sent Snatchers to the train, to retrieve her. Mr. Lovegood has been publicly supporting the Chosen One, you know. Luna was meant to be a hostage to his good behavior.”

“I wasn’t,” Luna said, “not. It’s lucky for you, Harry, that Ginny brought me home. Daddy would have made your visit dangerous for you if I wasn’t here.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

Harry inhaled, a deep, shuddering breath. “I am so, so sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I’m so sorry, Luna. Ginny.”

Ginny shook her head. “It’s not your fault, Harry.” She took a deep breath, smiling down at Luna.

Luna stood. “Would you like me to take you to your rooms? There’s only two spare, but I don’t think Regulus and Hermione will mind.”

“I - “ Hermione’s mouth opened and closed as she searched for something to say. Ginny grinned at her with a wink. 

“Hermione,” she drawled. “I don’t believe it.”

“You better believe it,” Harry scoffed, already in the hall with Luna. “Or, you know what, don’t - just wait until you walk in on them snogging.”

Regulus couldn’t suppress a grin, nudging Hermione with his shoulder and following Harry. 

Ginny fell in beside Hermione. “Regulus Black?” she whispered, her eyebrows climbing to her hairline.  _ Snogging? _ she mouthed.

Hermione shook her head, linking arms with Ginny and dragging her after the others. “I’ll tell you all about it,” she promised. “As soon as I’ve figured out what it is.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Luna deposited Regulus in the first bedroom with a wink, before showing Harry to the next room. 

Regulus examined the small room. There was a window, a bed, a small sofa, and a small table. He quickly crossed the room, dragging the curtains across the window. Night had fallen, during their long conversation. The blackness of the sky outside made the window panes something unnatural, less common. Red curtains were just a step up. Regulus took a step back, and sank into the sofa.

The door squeaked as it opened, and Luna stepped in. 

“Do you prefer the dark?” she asked casually, letting the door fall to behind her, not quite closed. 

Regulus sat up, the stiff Black posture returning. “No,” he said, watching her. She smiled. 

“Good,” she said. “I prefer the light.  _ Lumos. _ ”

A lamp beside the bed ignited, casting a soft golden glow. Luna perched on the edge of the sofa, staring at Regulus. He stared back warily. In the dim light, her large grey eyes glowed unnaturally. 

The silence stretched on too long. Regulus cleared his throat. “Are you - er - did you have something to say to me?”

“Did you have something to say to me?” Luna parroted. Regulus raised an eyebrow, leaning back. He fingered his wand, hidden in a pocket. Luna cocked her head to the side. “Hmm. I was wondering if I would be interesting enough to speak to Salazar Slytherin.”

Regulus tensed. That had not been a part of the story that he had seen fit to share with the girls, to share with anyone but Hermione. “How do you know,” he breathed.

She smiled. “Your Wrackspurts are reproducing at an alarming rate,” she said. “Slytherin knows my mother. You do too, I think. Pandora Lovegood.”

Regulus gaped. “I - maybe I met her once or twice, at Hogwarts -”

“No, no,” Luna interrupted. “After.”

He froze, a sudden clarity washing over him. Chills crept up his spine. “After...after I died?”

Luna smiled. “Of course! When else?”

Regulus shook his head. “I don’t - I don’t know…”

“Death isn’t the end, Mr. Black,” she said. She stood, dancing towards the door. “Magic has rules. But, it breaks its own rules all the time.”

Regulus stared after the blonde witch, as she floated out of the room. He shook his head, torn between the desire to laugh and the need to take everything she said to heart. Before he could decide which urge to humour, Hermione stepped into the room. 

“I just saw Luna leave,” she said, her lips quirking. She raised her eyebrows. “What did she have to say?”

“Quite a lot, actually,” Regulus said, a chuckle rising to the surface. “And consequently nothing at all.”

“Sounds like Luna.” Hermione sighed, sinking into the cushion beside Regulus. “She’s absolutely illogical, until she’s not. It drives me mad.”

“You’re friends, though.” Regulus leaned back alongside Hermione.

“Of a sort.” Hermione rested her head on Regulus’ shoulder, tucking herself into his side. “We were a part of a secret society together, in fifth year. She fought at the Ministry, with Harry and Neville and R - with the D. A.”

“Ah, yes.”

Hermione sat up. “Harry’s going to get Mr. Lovegood to explain the Hallows to us after he’s done catching up with Ginny. Are you coming?”

“I -” Regulus stopped, pulling himself up to sit as well. “No. I think, if you could just explain it to me later?”

Hermione reached up, cupping Regulus’ face in her hands. Her thumbs brushed over the delicate skin under his eyes, and the dark shadows he was sure were there. 

“Regulus, are you okay?” she asked, worry swimming in her eyes. “You’ve been...I don’t know,  _ off _ .”

Regulus twisted his lips into a smile, one that strained his cheeks, and didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s nothing,” he said. 

“It’s not,” Hermione countered, stroking his cheekbones. He relaxed into her touch, closing his eyes. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing.” Regulus cleared his throat, leaning away from Hermione’s hand. He opened his eyes. Her hand hovered in the air for a split second, before she tucked it away, hugging herself and looking away. Regulus felt a vague tug in his heart. He reached out, taking her hands in his. His eyes closed again. “It’s only that I’ve had a thought.”

“An important thought?”

Regulus huffed a laugh, ducking his head. Squeezing his eyes shut, he frowned. He searched for words to articulate the fear that had come upon him earlier, when he was preparing for Ginny’s attack, in the woods. “I don’t - I don’t know,” he said, “if it is in my passenger’s best interest for me to stay alive.” He opened his eyes, his uncertainty bleeding through. “I don’t know how committed to the idea he is.”

“Well,” Hermione breathed, a new tension in the set of her shoulders - one that matched Regulus’. “That is certainly a significant thought.”

The door opened, letting a bright yellow light into the dark room. Harry stood in the doorway, an indistinct shadow. “Xenophilius is ready to talk to us now,” he said. “Are you coming?”

Hermione tore her gaze away from Regulus, mustering a smile and standing up. “Yes, of course.” She squeezed Regulus’ shoulder. “We’ll talk more about this later,” she stated. “Get some sleep.” Regulus nodded, a trace of a smile on his face at her certainty. 

With that, she walked out of the room, pausing at the doorway to collect Harry and shoo him away with the appropriate explanations. Regulus fell backwards onto the couch, exhaling in a whoosh. He closed his eyes, and did his best to suppress the furious hiss at the back of his mind. 


	11. The Problem With Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (regulus + salazar) * (Ginny + Harry) - Ron = general chaos + progress

Regulus didn’t sleep. He spent a sleepless night in bed, counting Hermione’s breaths and fighting a pounding headache. 

Slytherin wanted to have a chat.

Regulus was fervently avoiding said chat. 

Since one of the two was a passenger in the other’s head, it was incredibly painful. Slytherin made his displeasure known in irritated bursts of foreign magic, blazing under his skin. It was all Regulus could do to not spasm or groan in pain. 

_ Less than a Crucio,  _ he told himself, over and over again.  _ It’s less than a crucio. I’ve survived worse. _

When the first flickers of dawn seeped through the small window, Regulus extricated himself from Hermione’s arms, getting out of bed. 

He stumbled to the window and pushed aside the curtains, letting the weak morning light in. The light sliced through his eyes. He braced himself against the wall. 

_...let...ME...SPEAK!!! _

Regulus winced, squeezing his eyes shut, so tightly that he saw stars. 

“Regulus?” Hermione’s voice was hoarse, gritty with sleep. He could only imagine how he looked to her; with the window behind him, he must be a monstrous shadow, his features rendered invisible. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m here. 

The sheets rustled as she slipped out from between them, her feet padding across the floor. She ran her hands around his waist, leaning on him. 

“It’s too early,” she mumbled into his chest. “Why are you awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. One hand slowly rubbed her back. She sighed. 

“We should be sleeping more, not less,” she said. “Since we’re actually safe.”

“As safe as a Fidelius can be, anyway,” Regulus warned. 

Hermione drew her head back, grumbling. She mock-glared up at him. “How safe is a Fidelius, when the Secret-Keeper lives in the house?”

Regulus allowed a smile. “You’re right, it’s very safe.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips. She hummed, her hands sliding up his sides and embedding themselves in his hair. 

In one smooth movement, he hitched her legs up around his hips, and slammed her against the wall. She squeaked in surprise. 

“Regulus!” Hermione giggled. He kissed his way down her neck, his hands traveling under her shirt. “We are  _ guests!” _

“And?” The headache was dulling, numbing, as Slytherin made himself scarce in Regulus’ head - giving in to the strong mental blocks Regulus had forced up. It was clear the ancient wizard didn’t want to be present for this. 

“Well,” Hermione started, “it’s very - rude - I -” She lost her train of thought, throwing her head back. “Regulus…”

He grinned. “What do you think Harry and Ginny were doing last night?”

“Ugh.” She pushed Regulus away, bracing her hands against his shoulders. “Mood officially killed.”

Regulus groaned, his eyes filled with mirth. “I never should’ve opened my mouth. It was a legitimate question, though.”

“Harry’s like my brother. He - and he apparently has a  _ boyfriend, _ ” she grimaced, faux-vomiting. 

Regulus chuckled. 

“I acknowledge that Harry has most likely had - relations,” Hermione said stiffly. “With Ginny, or Draco -”

“Or both,” Regulus smirked. 

“Ugh!” Hermione gagged. “I am so glad Harry doesn’t tell me  _ everything.” _

Regulus almost laughed out loud at her expression. “I’m sure.”. He inhaled sharply. A spark of pain flashed through him. Slytherin was back at it, trying to break his walls down. Distracted, he almost missed the flicker of worry erasing her smile. 

“Hey,” he breathed, tilting her face toward him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared,” Hermione whispered. “I don’t want to be, but I am. Harry is unraveling, with this Hallows thing, and I’m worried - I’m worried I won’t be enough to hold him together. To hold you together.”

Regulus clasped her hands in his own. “I can hold myself together,” he said. “Harry can hold himself together. We are all strong, Hermione. Don’t forget that.”

“Yeah,” Hermione gasped, nodding. “We are strong. But Reg, don’t forget we’re stronger  _ together _ .”

A creak sounded above them. Regulus glanced up. 

“What do you say we get dressed?” he said, smoothing a curl away from Hermione’s face. “Then we can get some breakfast, and regroup. I’m sure Harry has some idea of what he wants to do with the Hallows.”

Hermione grimaced. “I told you, they’re a myth,” she grumbled, pulling away from Regulus and grabbing her beaded back. Reaching in, she summoned some clothes. “We need to focus on what we know is real - the Horcruxes.”

“Yes, but even if we destroy the Horcruxes, it won’t matter much if the Dark Lord is the master of death,” Regulus said, raising an eyebrow. She scowled at him. “I’m just saying,” he shrugged, pushing down a wince at the pain the sudden movement caused. “That’s definitely one of the arguments Harry will use.”

She tossed one of his shirts at him. 

“Horcruxes first, then Hallows,” she said. 

“We don’t know where the next Horcrux is,” Regulus pointed out, pulling the shirt over his head. 

She grimaced, shimmying into her jeans. “Diary, locket, ring…”

“Destroyed.”

“Yes. Dumbledore thought there were seven - that’s three gone, four left. One, obviously, is the body he’s in…”

“Is it?” Regulus squinted at her. “That doesn’t make much sense. I thought the body he’s in came from the piece of his soul that was expelled from his  _ other  _ body, when Harry defeated him the first time.”

“Diary, locket, ring, something of Hufflepuff’s, something of Ravenclaw’s, his current body…” Hermione counted off on her fingers. “That’s only six, and if his current body isn’t one…” She bit her lip, sitting abruptly. 

Regulus looked at her. “I’m sure you’re right,” he said. “We’ll figure it out, okay?” He pulled her off the bed, planting a kiss on her forehead, and leading her to the door. Opening it, he smirked. “After you.”

She rolled her eyes and exited the room. Regulus was about to follow, when all of his muscles clenched in a wave of pain. 

“Regulus?” Hermione called quietly from the hall. “Are you okay?”

“Yes - yes,” Regulus pulled himself up, straightening. She offered him her hand. He took it, giving her a reassuring smile. “All good,” he said quietly. 

She nodded, and they made the short journey down the hall to the kitchen. 

Luna was already up, making some tea over the stove. It was emitting a strangely flowery smell. 

“Good morning,” she greeted them. 

“Morning,” Hermione smiled. “Can I help you with anything?”

“If you’d like to make oatmeal,” Luna offered, returning to her tea. Hermione quickly made herself useful. Regulus settled down at the table, resting his aching head on his hand. 

He glanced around. There was no sign of the elusive Mr. Lovegood; Hermione said that they had only seen him briefly, for the Hallows discussion, the night before. Apparently he wasn’t much for company. 

All too soon, the tea was done. Luna poured herself and Regulus a cup, then took a seat across from him at the table. 

“It’s good for magical maladies, and it helps get rid of Wrackspurts,” she said, pointedly taking a sip of her tea. 

Regulus followed suit, and was surprised to find it was actually quite calming. The headache he had been nursing since the previous night subsided to a dull roar. 

“Do you have any plans for today?” Luna queried. 

“I think that we’re going to figure out our next move,” Regulus said. “Right, Hermione?”

“Yes,” Hermione confirmed, still standing over her pot of oatmeal. “I’ve got some ideas, but we need to run them by Harry.”

“Are you going to look for the Hallows?”

Hermione exchanged a glance with Regulus over Luna’s head. “No, we’ve got to find -” she stopped, biting her lip, uncertain of how to finish her sentence. 

Regulus leaned forward, Luna watching with interest. “We’re looking for artifacts,” he said carefully. “Important items that may have belonged to the founders - items that have special meaning to the Dark Lord.”

“Hmm,” Luna hummed, tilting her head to the side. “What have you found so far?”

Hermione shot Regulus a warning gaze. He conveniently didn’t see it. 

“Well, we’ve ruled out the Sword of Gryffindor, as the Dark Lord was a Slytherin,” Regulus said. “We’ve found three other items. One belonged to Salazar Slytherin. So, we’ve narrowed down the rest to Hufflepuff’s Cup, and something belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw.”

“The Diadem.”

Luna’s answer was immediate. Hermione’s stirring slowed as she paid closer attention to the conversation. Regulus leaned forward. “The Diadem?”

“It’s Rowena Ravenclaw’s only known artifact,” Luna said. “But it was lost, long ago.”

Regulus grinned. “If I were the Dark Lord, I would think it quite the feather in my cap if I could find it.”

Luna smiled back. “There you have it.”

“That’s five,” Regulus said to Hermione. She beamed, her hair crackling with excited magic. “Luna, do you know where the diadem is?”

“Lost,” she shrugged. “But I imagine it’s at Hogwarts.” 

Hermione spooned out some oatmeal into bowls, and brought them to the table. “Perfect,” she breathed. “That’s a start.”

Regulus nodded, blinking spots out of his eyes. 

“Reg, do you want to go see if Harry’s up yet?”

“Oh, Ginny and Harry went out for a walk,” Luna said. 

Hermione tensed. “A walk? Outside of the Fidelius?”

“Oh, yes,” Luna sipped her tea. “It’s quite safe, so long as they avoid the Plimpering Nollywoggles.” 

Hermione abandoned her breakfast, standing. “I need to -”

Regulus rose, putting a hand on her arm. “Let me,” he said, giving her a quick peck. “You finish your breakfast.”

He left the room, heading through the main room to the door. Once he was out of sight and earshot, he collapsed, supporting himself on the wall. White spots flashed over his eyes, and he barely held back a groan. 

It was over as soon as it started. Regulus’ mental blocks hurriedly repaired themselves. Slytherin’s influence was once again reduced to that constant headache. 

Regulus pulled himself up, heading out the door. Maybe the fresh air would make him feel better, make Slytherin leave him alone. 

One had to hope. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry had grown used to many things on the run, but the smell of crisp, early morning air was not one of them. 

He inhaled, drawing the fresh air into his lungs and closing his eyes.

“You all right?” Ginny asked, a hidden laugh tucked into her words. Her hands were in her pockets, and she shivered a little in the morning chill. Harry wrapped an arm around his shoulders, unable to keep a smile off of his face. 

“I’m wonderful,” he sighed. “I love the mornings.”

“What, the smell?” Ginny caught on quickly. She wrinkled her nose. “It’s just wet grass.”

“You forget that I grew up in the city,” Harry said. “I like it. It reminds me of Hogwarts.” His smile faded. 

Ginny burrowed into his side, wrapping her arms around him. “I miss it,” she said into his jacket. “I hate not knowing what’s going on there. I read the papers - Snape, the Carrows - it must be  _ awful.” _

Harry kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re not there,” he said softly. 

“Draco is.”

Harry tensed at her words, and Ginny flinched, as though she hadn’t meant to say them. She pulled away. 

“I’m sorry, Harry, I -”

He forced a smile onto his face. “He’s one of them. They won’t hurt him,” he said. “Anyway, it’s Easter Break, he’ll be home now...not that that’s any better.”

Ginny winced. “It’s not.”

They were quiet, for a few moments. Ahead, the forest began to wake up, birds chirping in the trees. Harry glanced over his shoulder at the house. There were a few more lights on, and he thought he could see Luna through one of the windows.

“How’s Luna?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“She’s alright, I think,” Ginny said. “We get along pretty well. It’s a relief to not be trapped at Shell Cottage. Aunt Muriel isn’t driving Mum crazy anymore, but Mum’s going to drive Fleur crazy by the time the war’s over.”

Harry nodded. A vaguely uncomfortable silence prevailed again.

Finally, Ginny couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’m sorry!” she burst out. “Harry, I’m sorry.”

Harry turned to face her, his green eyes startled. “For what?” 

“I left him behind, on the train,” Ginny whispered. Tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry, Harry. I got Luna out, but I left Draco behind.”

Harry’s heart cleaved in two, seeing Ginny’s expression. It mirrored his own, every time he thought about the Ministry, and Draco. He pulled Ginny into a firm hug, holding her tightly. 

“He wouldn’t have gone with you,” he murmured into her hair. “He didn’t go with me.”

Ginny took a step back, sniffling. Harry’s arms fell to his sides, bereft. “He’s not a bad person...” she said.

“...just caught in a bad situation,” Harry finished. He took Ginny’s hands, squeezing. “I’m going to get him out, Ginny. I promise.”

She sighed. “I wish…”

“I know.” 

The silence returned, but this time, it was comfortable - the kind of silence shared by two people who truly understood each other. 

Regulus’ footsteps, crunching over the stiff grass, stood out in the quiet. The couple turned to watch him approach. He smiled sheepishly. 

“I’m not spying, I promise,” he called, closing the distance. “Hermione was worried. You left the Fidelius.”

“It’s fine,” Ginny said. “So long as we stay away from the town, and the Burrow, no one is going to find us.”

Regulus nodded, slowing to a stop between them. “That’s good.” He couldn’t get his eyes to focus. The moment anything sharpened, it blurred, thanks to the lack of sleep and Slytherin. 

Ginny quirked an eyebrow at Harry, cocking her head to the side. He took the hint, and paced a few steps away, out of ear shot. Regulus smirked. 

“You’ve got him trained well.” His words sounded hollow, painfully clanging around inside of his head. The incredible tension didn’t let off. 

Ginny shrugged. “So,” she said, folding her arms. “Not Sirius.”

Regulus shook his head with a wry grin. “Not Sirius.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry if I -” Ginny stopped, then started again. “It made more sense for Harry to have brought back Sirius, and mucked it up somehow, making him come back young,” she got out, all in one breath. 

Regulus nodded. A low hissing sound incessantly thrummed in his brain. “I imagine that’s the simpler explanation.” He huffed out a laugh, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Merlin. The simpler explanation.”

“The world truly is terrifying,” Ginny agreed. “Particularly when the dead refuse to stay dead.”

“I wish…” Regulus hesitated, glancing at Ginny. “I wish Sirius  _ had  _ been the one brought back. I think he could’ve helped Harry more.”

Ginny shook her head. “It’s no use wishing impossible things,” she said. “Maybe Sirius could have offered a different type of help - but, Regulus, I think Harry really appreciates the help you’ve brought. He doesn’t need a pseudo-father right now. He needs a brother-in-arms.”

Regulus snorted, looking down and fighting a blush. “How medieval of you.”

Ginny shrugged, her teeth chattering. “I’m right.”

“I wouldn’t say otherwise.”

“Well,” she clapped her hands together, “now that that’s sorted - I should go tell Hermione that Harry’s still alive.” 

She took a step back. Harry took that as his cue to rejoin them. “Don’t stay out for much longer,” Ginny said. “You’ll freeze. 

With a grin, she began to trek back to the Rook. 

Harry drew level with Regulus, bumping shoulders. Regulus barely stopped himself from recoiling. 

“Hermione sent you out to check on me, then,” Harry said. 

“Of course,” Regulus said with a wry grin. “She’s inside - we want to talk about Horcruxes and Hallows.”

Harry grimaced. “She doesn’t want me to go after the Hallows.”

“Neither of us do, Harry,” Regulus said. “Think about it. If we go after the Hallows, the Dark Lord isn’t going to sit and wait around for us to return to the horcrux hunt - to the war. He’s going to keep fighting, keep torturing and killing and -”

“I know,” Harry snapped. “Do you think I don’t know that every day I delay, people suffer?”

“I  _ know  _ you know that,” Regulus reassured him. “Which is why I know you’ll make the Horcruxes your priority.”

Harry sighed. “I will.” 

He returned to gazing at the treeline, listening to the silence. Regulus stood beside him, trapped in his own head. The pain was growing exponentially by the minute - Luna’s tea had only worked for so long. Much more of this, and Regulus thought he might explode. 

“I’ve just got this feeling,” Harry said, his eyes distant, reflecting the blue of the sky. “This feeling that I’ve been missing something - that Dumbledore didn’t tell me something important, and the Hallows are a part of it.”

A vein pulsed in Regulus’ temple. He had to put a great effort to not lash out and bash Dumbledore’s life choices with all he had. “I’m sure the professor told you all you needed to know,” he said through gritted teeth.

Harry slouched, his shoulders curving inwards. “Of course,” he said softly. “You’re right.” His brows were furrowed, his voice full of doubt. 

“Yeah.” Regulus clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder, stubbornly ignoring the sensation of spikes stabbing through his own shoulders. “Let’s head inside. Hermione’s probably formulating a plan of attack as we speak.”

Harry obliged, allowing Regulus to turn him back towards the Rook. He glanced at Regulus out of the corner of his eye, covertly examining his friend. 

He opened his mouth, then closed it abruptly. What was he going to say, exactly?  _ Hey Regulus, you look like shit, bad night?  _ He shook his head, and matched Regulus’ pace, striding back towards Luna’s home. 

In the Rook, Hermione watched Regulus and Harry walk through a small and round window that was a bit like a porthole. The two men unconsciously mirrored each other’s strides, making their way across the field and back to the house. 

“Hermione,” Luna said, suddenly right beside her. Hermione jumped, barely resisting the urge to smack Luna with her wand. “Your special friend is fraying at the edges.”

“I -” Hermione’s brow furrowed as she tried to process Luna’s words. “What?”

Luna tilted her head to the side, examining Regulus from where she stood, inside. “I don’t think he’s sleeping well,” she said vacantly. “Also, his aura is at war with himself.”

“His aura…” Hermione bit her lip, deciding to indulge Luna just this once. “Would you describe it?”

Luna pursed her lips. “There’s two colours, and they don’t blend well together,” she said simply. “He’s also got a great amount of wrackspurts feeding.”

The two men walked into the house, Regulus preceding Harry. He rubbed his temples, not stopping in the room with the women. Harry took a seat beside Ginny, casting a worried eye towards Regulus as he continued down the hall. 

“Hermione -” he started. 

“Yeah,” Hermione said, without letting him finish. She was already up, following Regulus. “I know.”

She slipped down the hallway. Ahead of her, the door to the room they were sharing clicked shut. She paused. 

The closing door sounded like a warning shot in the cluttered space. Her hand hovered over the doorknob, and she hesitated. 

Regulus wasn’t himself. She had never been very good at reading people, and she didn’t know what to do. Did he want to be left alone? Did he  _ need  _ to have someone with him, someone to hold him up and help him through whatever he was going through right now?

_ I don’t know if it is in my passenger’s best interest for me to stay alive. _

His words echoed in her mind, and sent a jolt of nervous energy down her spine. Her hand fell onto the doorknob, and she opened the door. 

“Agh!” Regulus yelped, recoiling from the light in the hall. 

“Regulus!” Hermione dashed into the room. The door shut behind her, pitching the room into darkness. “Hey, hey…” She held him up, her hands on his elbows. “Reg, what’s wrong?”

“Slytherin,” Regulus gasped. Adrenaline surged through her.

“Slytherin?”

“He wants to talk,” Regulus said. “He - he heard my theory, my  _ thought _ , he wants to pull me back under again and -”

“Just talk to him,” Hermione said desperately.

“No - no I can’t, I can’t,” Regulus almost sobbed, his words tripping over his breaths. “Hermione, I can’t.”

“You can’t keep on like this, Reg,” she whispered. 

Regulus nodded, over and over again, blinking rapidly. “I know. I…”

His legs trembled, and she wrapped her arms more securely around his waist. “Slytherin doesn’t want you dead,” she promised, but it was empty.  _ He doesn’t,  _ she thought firmly, willing it into being.  _ He doesn’t.  _

“I’m scared,” Regulus whispered. His eyes were full of fear. “What if he does? What if he kills me, what if I die, what if Voldemort uses Slytherin to control me?” He lifted shaking hands, cupping Hermione’s face and stroking his thumbs over her cheeks. “What if he makes me kill you?”

Hermione reached up, placing her hands over his. “I…” She couldn’t say any more. All those years, when she was the first person with her hand in the air in class, she always had the right answer. Now, when it really mattered, she couldn’t think of  _ any _ answer. Hermione gazed up at him, her mouth hanging open slightly. 

He swallowed. Leaning down, he rested his forehead against hers. “I can’t die without first making sure that you’re safe, that the world is safe, from the Dark Lord.”

His forehead was hot. Hermione could practically feel his headache pulsing through his veins. She pressed closer to him, as though she could absorb his pain and make it her own. 

“You’re not going to die,” she whispered around the lump in her throat. “You’re not.”

He pulled back, stepping back and taking a deep breath. 

“Okay?” Hermione asked quietly.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Oka -” His voice cut out in a muted yowl of pain. 

“Regulus!” She darted forward, his pain slicing through her, a helpless ache in her chest. 

Regulus stumbled into Hermione, gripping her arm, his head falling to her shoulder. He shook violently. “Hermione, I have to -” 

What he had to do, she didn’t know, and apparently she wasn’t going to find out. Mid-sentence, Regulus passed out. His grip on her arm went slack, and he slid down her body, landing with a  _ crack  _ on the floor. 

“Regulus - Regulus!” Hermione reached for him, overcoming her brief shock. She rolled him over, and checked his pulse. His eyelashes fluttered, revealing the whites of his eyes, but he didn’t wake up. “Shit - Harry! Ginny! Luna!”

“Hmm.” Luna appeared in the doorway, her head cocked to the side as she observed the scene. “Does he usually do this?”

“No, of  _ course _ he doesn’t,” Hermione snapped, lowering Regulus gently to the floor. 

Harry pushed past Luna, Ginny right behind him. He rushed over to Hermione, helping her support Regulus. “Ginny - can you get his -”

“Legs, got it.” Ginny followed Harry into the room. Together, she, Hermione, and Harry lifted Regulus onto the bed. 

Ginny stared down at him. His head lolled back on the arm, Hermione stroking his hair and trying to maneuver him into a more comfortable position. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I think he’s talking to Slytherin,” Hermione said. She and Harry stared at each other, fear and worry reflected in their eyes.

Ginny huffed. “Salazar Slytherin? You’re joking.”

Harry placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll explain it later,” he murmured. 

Hermione slipped her hand into Regulus’ squeezing it before letting go. 

“What can we do?” Harry asked, fidgeting with his wand. 

Hermione bit her lip, wringing her hands helplessly. 

“Nothing,” she said. “There’s nothing we can do for him now.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Regulus’ vision exploded into white light, and just as quickly plunged into darkness. 

“Hello?”

The air had the same soupy quality Regulus remembered from his last few chats with Slytherin. He was on his guard - but there was nothing he could do, no way he could protect his mind. 

“HELLO?” Regulus screamed into the blank darkness. “You went to all the trouble of pulling me in here, and now you’re not going to talk?”

“Do you think I am trying to kill you?”

Regulus flinched. Slytherin’s voice was right by his ear, and he sounded none too happy. 

“Considering you’ve been giving me terrible headaches for the last twelve hours, I’m not convinced you’re  _ not  _ trying to kill me,” he snapped.

Slytherin hissed. “That was your own fault. If you had let your bothersome mind-blocks down, we could’ve had this conversation much sooner, and without you being unconscious.”

“I’m here now,” Regulus scowled. “Tell me what you wanted to say. Get it over with.”

“I want to die,” Slytherin said bluntly. Regulus tensed. “I don’t want to kill you. It’s not your fault you’re my host.”

“Well done,” Regulus said drily. “You almost sounded convincing, you parasite.”

“Please,” Slytherin spat. “The only thing I want more than to die, is to  _ kill  _ the  _ moronic _ Dark Lord who thought it was a good idea to  _ trap  _ me amongst the living.”

“That’s -” Regulus paused, thinking over Slytherin’s words. “Actually, it appears our interests align.”

“Exactly,” Slytherin said. “Are you ready to hear my proposition?”

“I’m listening.”

“The Dark Lord brought me back because I have unheard of reserves of magical power,” Slytherin said bluntly. “Which means that you now have said reserves, as long as I am in your body. I propose that I teach you to use them in battle.”

“I’m not convinced.”

“Your friend, Harry, he is going to die.”

Regulus hissed. “He is not.”

“He is,” Slytherin insisted. “He must. And you know why.”

Regulus swallowed. “I don’t.”

“You do. But he must die by Voldemort’s hand. Based on his track record, how likely do you think it is that Potter will survive to that day?”

“And you think you can help.”

“My magic can protect your friend - and your lady love - for as long as you want. I only ask one thing.”

Here it was; the catch. Regulus steeled himself. “What is it?”

“Find out how to send me back to Death - to get me out of your head, at the very least. You are intelligent, and you have one of the brightest minds of the age on your side. I don’t doubt you can do it.”

Regulus cocked his head to the side. “I really don’t see a downside to this deal,” he said. “Which means it’s either even more nefarious than it seems, or…”

“Or it’s the best thing that’s happened to you in months.”

“Not true, Hermione -”

“I don’t need to hear about Hermione.”

Regulus smirked. “That’s right, you don’t like to be there when -”

“Do we have a deal?” 

Regulus thought it over. It didn’t seem like too hard of a decision. “Yes.”

_ Good,  _ Slytherin whispered, his words echoing.  _ Then it’s time for you to wake up. _

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Regulus shot upwards, sitting abruptly with a gasp. 

“Hermione!”

She was alert in an instant, clutching his hand in her own. “Regulus! Reg, I’m here, I’m here -”

He turned to her, his hands tightening around hers. Twisting on the bed, his feet landed on the floor sharply. “I had to talk to Slytherin.”

“Ah,” Hermione exhaled. “I was wondering.”

A grin grew on Regulus’ face, brilliant and blinding. Hermione’s own smile arrived, reflecting his glee. “So,” she said, clearing her throat. “You talked to Slytherin?”

“I did.” Regulus’ smile was unabating. 

“And?”

He cocked his head to the side, smirking at her. “And what?”

Hermione shoved his shoulder. “What did he have to say?” she giggled. Regulus fell back, faking great pain at her light touch. 

“I’m not going to die,” Regulus grinned. “And, best of all? Slytherin’s going to help us.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Help us?”

Regulus was practically vibrating with excitement. “Hermione, Slytherin was one of the founders,” he said. “He has incredible power - you’ve seen some of it, and that was when I was doing my best to suppress his presence in my mind, in my magic. If he helps me learn to wield his power, if we work together...Hermione, this could save the world.”

She bit her lip, uneasiness floating through her. “Ancient magic runs by different rules,” she said. 

Regulus’ smile faded, as he caught on to her apprehension. “I’ll be careful,” he promised her. “Don’t worry about me.” 

Hermione smoothed her hands over his brow. “All I ever do is worry,” she said softly.

“Not anymore,” he said, kissing her briefly. “Let me do some of that worrying for you.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”

“All right,” he said. “Now that that’s out of the way...what’s a man got to do to get some lunch around here?” 

She smirked. “Dinner, more like. Reg, you were asleep all day.”

Regulus glanced at the window. Sure enough, it was already dark. “Oh,” he said. “Well. In that case...dinner probably  _ is  _ more appropriate.”

Hermione laughed with relief. “Let’s go find the others,” she said. “Then we can find you some food.”

They found Harry in the front room, sitting in front of the fire with Ginny and Luna. He stood as soon as they walked in.

“Regulus! You’re all right?”

“Just a minor hiccup,” Regulus grinned. 

“Minor, huh,” Ginny said drily. “Is passing out for an entire day a regular occurrence for you, then?”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised.”

Hermione guided Regulus to a loveseat, squishing in beside him. “Now that Reg’s here, we can seriously plan.”

Harry nodded vehemently. “Yes,” he said. “We need to move forward.”

Regulus sighed. It appeared he was not going to get his dinner for quite some time. “Not the Hallows?” he asked, gamely entering the conversation. Harry nodded, his jaw set. 

“I want to come with you.”

Harry, Hermione, and Regulus turned to Ginny in surprise. “You - what?” Harry was flummoxed. 

“I want to come with you,” Ginny repeated. “Don’t leave me behind again, Harry.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, pacing away from the fire. “I can’t - Ginny, it’s not safe.”

“No one is safe, Harry!”

“You’re in a Fidelius!” Harry was shaking, barely refraining from shouting at her. “That’s as safe as you can get.”

“Harry,” Regulus said, stopping the younger man in his tracks. “Let her come.”

Harry stared at him, then at Hermione. “What would you do, if you were trapped, with no way to help?” she sighed. “Let Ginny come.”

Harry wiped a hand over his face. “It’s too dangerous,” he said hoarsely. “We’re going after…” He stopped. 

“What are you going after, if not the Hallows?” Ginny asked curiously. 

Harry took a deep breath, then he exhaled, finally giving in. “Horcruxes.”

Luna flinched. 

“What are horcruxes?” Ginny asked. 

“Pieces of Voldemort’s soul,” Hermione said quietly. “He murdered someone, then he split his soul, and stored it in an inanimate object.”

“An artifact,” Luna murmured. 

Harry nodded. “Three are destroyed - the diary that possessed you, Ginny, then a ring that Dumbledore got rid of…”

“And Slytherin’s locket,” Regulus added. “There’s four left.”

“We think two of them are Ravenclaw’s diadem,” Hermione said, “and Hufflepuff’s cup.”

“You don’t know what the others are?” Ginny looked shell shocked, overwhelmed by the idea of Voldemort’s immortality - the idea that even if they managed to kill his body now, he’d just keep coming back again and again…

Harry shook his head. “No.”

“We’re going to destroy the ones we know about,” Hermione said, “then we’ll worry about the ones we don’t. The thing is, we don’t know where to go next.” 

“You’ll be going to Hogwarts, for the diadem,” Luna prompted. 

The trio glanced at each other. Harry made a face. “I’d like to leave that for last, considering all the defenses Voldemort is bound to have around it.”

“I think that’s the least of your problems,” Ginny interjected. “How are you going to get rid of it?” 

“Well…” Harry hesitated, looking at Hermione. She rolled her eyes, and tossed him her beaded bag. “ _ Accio sword _ .” He unsheathed the sword from the bag.

Ginny gasped. “It’s amazing,” she said, running her hands over the sword in awe. 

“You’ve seen it before,” Harry pointed out. 

Ginny shrugged. “Yeah, when I was eleven, and recovering from possession.”

Harry frowned. “Right.”

“So this sword, it can destroy Riddle’s horcruxes?” Ginny looked at Hermione. She nodded.

“When Harry stabbed the basilisk with it, it imbibed some of the venom,” Hermione explained. 

“Basilisk venom is one of few things that can destroy a horcrux,” Regulus said.

Ginny suddenly laughed. 

“What?” Harry asked, her infectious laughter making him smile. 

“I’d like to think I helped, my being possessed and all leading you to the basilisk,” she grinned. 

The others joined her in laughter, the tension leaking out of the room. 

Suddenly, the floo opened up with a whoosh. Everyone crouched into an attack-ready position. Regulus wanted to laugh at the sight of Harry, who, instead of reaching for his wand, aimed the sword. 

Ron Weasley stepped out of the fire. 

“Ron?” Hermione gasped. Regulus took a step closer to her, his arm hovering close to her waist. His wand was still out. 

“You don’t know that,” he said harshly. 

“No,” Harry snarled. “We don’t.”

“Look,” Ron said, spreading his empty hands in surrender. “It really is me. This place is Fideliused, remember? Who else would I be?”

“I don’t know, but I’d rather not find out,” Harry said. “When you left, I forced you to leave -”

“The necklace,” Ron said. “Salazar Slytherin’s necklace.”

Hermione and Regulus dropped their wands. Harry didn’t move. 

“What the bloody hell is he doing here?” he growled. 

“Harry - Harry, look, I’m sorry, but I thought he should come,” Ginny said, placing a hand on Harry’s chest. “Bill said he’s been moping all over Shell Cottage, and generally being utterly useless - come on, Harry, the two of you are best friends. You can work this out.”

“No, we can’t,” Harry said stubbornly. “Ginny, you of all people - I  _ told  _ you what he said.”

“I didn’t mean it!” Ron shouted. “I was surprised, Harry, that’s all -”

“I want him to leave,” Harry said, looking at Luna. 

She shrugged. “I like Ron,” she said calmly. “He can stay if he likes.”

Harry looked from her, to Ginny, and back to Ron. Hermione squeezed Regulus’ hand, holding her breath. 

“Fine,” Harry said. “Fine. He stays, and I’m leaving.” He stalked to the door, and walked out, the door slamming behind him. 

“Harry, wait!” Ron bolted after his friend. 

Regulus and Hermione exchanged a look, and then they were moving, following the pair out of the house. 

“We need to hang back,” Hermione said as they tripped off the porch. “Just...hang back, but be there just in case it gets violent.”

Just outside the garden gate, Regulus suddenly stopped, breaking out into laughter. “Hermione, Harry has the sword.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Oh, God - Regulus, that’s not funny!”

“Isn’t it?” His eyes twinkled. “He might challenge Ron to a duel.”

Hermione huffed. “It’s not.” She took off towards where Harry and a pursuing Ron were disappearing into the woods. 

Regulus was about to follow, when Ginny’s voice stopped him. 

“Regulus, wait!” He paused, letting Hermione race ahead of him. Quirking an eyebrow, he met Ginny halfway, in the Rook’s front yard. 

She tossed a familiar beaded bag at him.

His eyes narrowed. “What is this?”

The corners of Ginny’s mouth tugged downwards, against her will. “Luna says you won’t be coming back to the Rook,” she said. “She’s almost never wrong.”

Regulus’ jaw clenched. “Let’s hope she is,” he said gruffly. “But if she isn’t...thank you.” He stowed the bag in a pocket. Turning, he hurried away. Harry and Ron were going deeper into the woods, their raised voices carrying. 

At the gate, he paused again, glancing back over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

She blinked in surprise. “What?”

“You wanted to come,” Regulus said. “Are you coming?” 

That was all it took. Ginny nodded curtly, then they were running, racing through the woods after Hermione and Harry. 

Surprisingly, Regulus saw them before he heard them. The boys were in the middle of a copse, screaming at each other. Hermione stood back a little, watching with folded arms. 

“This won’t attract attention at all,” Regulus said sarcastically, stopping just behind her. She waved a hand dismissively. 

“Silencing charm,” she said nervously. “It won’t hold for long, but…”

“Can we hear what they’re saying?” Ginny asked.

Hermione did a double take, but didn’t ask why Ginny was present. She bit her lip. “If we’re in range. Regulus, I don’t think you want to hear.”

Regulus stared at her, his grey eyes unreadable. “Whatever Weasley’s saying, I have definitely heard worse.”

Hermione winced. “That doesn’t make it any better.”

Regulus held out a hand. “Come on; take me within range.”

Hermione took his hand, and led him forward. Ginny followed. Regulus felt a sensation similar to his ears popping, and then he could hear Harry and Ron, loud and clear. 

“...and we don’t need you! We’ve been doing just fine without you! We  _ DESTROYED a horcrux  _ WITHOUT YOU!”

“So, what, you’ve just decided to replace me with Regulus Black? Harry,  _ come on,”  _ Ron begged. “We’ve been best friends for seven years, we’ve saved each other’s lives so many times -”

“Regulus has saved my life too!” Harry yelled. He lifted the sword, shaking it at Ron. “Do you know what happened when I got this? It was at the bottom of a pool! When I dived in, the horcrux began to choke me, and do you know who saved my life then? Regulus did!”

“I WAS THERE TOO!” Ron bellowed. “I was there, I saw you dive for the bloody sword! I was going after you but  _ he  _ got there first!” He gestured wildly in Regulus’ general direction. 

Regulus felt Slytherin’s magic purr in anticipation. His passenger clearly thought this interaction would end in a fight… Regulus shifted his stance warily. A duel was not the ideal outcome. 

Hermione placed a hand on his chest, shooting a warning look at him. Behind her, Harry and Ron grew louder and louder, shouting at each other. 

“Just let them work it out,” she said in an undertone. “Once they’ve got all the yelling out of their system, we can all sit down and talk this through rationally.”

Regulus glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was biting her lip, her wand clenched in her grip. 

“Right.” He wasn’t sure if she was speaking from experience, or if it was just wishful thinking.

In front of them, Harry shoved a red-faced Ron. Regulus grimaced. “They’re not going to work it out,” he said, taking a step forward. Hermione stopped him again. 

“They will,” she said, a hysterical edge to her voice. “They have to.”

The foreboding feeling swirled in Regulus’ stomach, stronger this time. “I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered, pushing Hermione’s hand aside. 

“Hermione, Harry’s pointing a sword at him.” Ginny shifted uneasily.

“I -” Hermione stopped, sighing. Harry was indeed holding Gryffindor’s sword in a more aggressive stance. She grabbed Regulus’ hand, but not to hold him back. Instead, she squeezed it tightly, and walked with him. She nodded at Ginny, and they closed the distance between them and the boys.

“...called me a bloody Death Eater lover, because that’s what I am, isn’t it?” Harry snapped. 

“I didn’t -” Ron started at a shout, then stopped. He put his hands behind his head, looking up at the dark sky and taking a deep breath before starting again. “Look, Harry,” he said, his tone softer than it had been since he arrived, “I was on edge, okay? We  _ barely  _ got my family out of the Ministry. Then, you tell me that not only do you have a secret boyfriend, it’s Draco bloody Malfoy! How did you think I was going to react?”

Harry shifted on his feet, Gryffindor’s sword falling to the ground beside him. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I was trying to figure out a way for it to work. I thought, maybe if Draco defected...but then he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and…” He swallowed, running a hand through his hair. 

“It took some getting used to,” Ron said. “Hell, I might flip out at the ferret - sorry, Malfoy - if I see him again, but I’ll get over it, if he’s really what you want.”

“You should know, I’m going to save him,” Harry said fiercely. His determination was echoed in every line of his body, in Ginny’s determined eyes as she moved to stand beside him. “I’m going to get Draco out, even if I have to kill Voldemort to do it.”

“Don’t say his name!” Ron shouted. 

Harry fell back a step. “What’re you yelling at me for now?” he yelled back, bewildered. 

Ron was glancing around, his wand in his hand. His tension spread quickly to the rest. Regulus spun, scanning the trees around them. He nervously noted that they were quite close to where they had met Luna and Ginny. 

“There’s a taboo,” Ron hissed. “On the name.”

Regulus’ wide eyes met Ron’s. “They enacted it?” 

The red-head nodded seriously. In a moment of solidarity, they turned to opposite sides, flanking Hermione and Harry. 

Ginny crouched, her eyes scanning her surroundings. “We need to get back to the Rook.”

“What if someone shows up, and tracks us?” Harry asked, his voice a little too high.

“Impossible,” Regulus said flatly. “It’s under a Fidelius.”

“He has a point,” Ron said, silently agreeing with Harry’s paranoia. “We should split up - Ginny, go back to Shell Cottage - I’ll take Harry, Black, you take Hermione -”

Regulus sneered, an ugly, angry protectiveness rearing up inside of him at the thought of separation. “That’s a terrible -”

_ Crack! _

The group shut up, exchanging glances. Hermione glanced around. “There’s no one here,” she said quietly. “It was probably just...just a tree branch falling, or something…”

_ Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! _

“That’s definitely Apparation,” Harry said. 

For one long, tense moment, the five stood, staring at each other. Then, a shout not too far away startled them into motion. 

Hermione locked eyes with Regulus, then determinedly fixed her gaze on Harry. “Run.”

She grabbed Harry’s hand and darted off into the woods. Harry snatched Ginny’s hand just before he took off, dragging her along with him. Ron and Regulus sprinted after the trio. 

“What happened to splitting up?” Hermione hissed at Regulus, between panting breaths. 

“If you think I’m leaving your side, you’re mad,” Regulus growled. 

Hermione grimaced with displeasure, but didn’t bother answering him - saving her breath for an argument she could  _ win _ , when they weren’t running for their lives. 

They stumbled and tripped through the woods, none of them sure whether they were running to or away from the Rook. Ron cursed every time he tripped, panting. Harry and Hermione led the way. 

They made it out of the treeline, and into a clearing, when a weak Stupefy flashed across the clearing in front of them. Slowing to a stop, they formed a loose formation, their backs to each other. 

Snatchers began to materialize from the woods, slinking into the clearing. Four of them were carrying large, human-sized cages.. Hermione swallowed, the hand that wasn’t holding her wand brushing against Regulus’ arm. 

The leader took a few extra steps forward. “Well, well, well,” he sneered. “What have we here?  _ Five  _ little Phoenixes?”

A deep hum flowed throughout Regulus, spreading from his core. 

_ Take them out,  _ Slytherin hissed.  _ We can do it. _

Regulus cast a glance at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. She was standing a bit in front of him and Harry, in a ready stance, her expression hard. 

_ I told you I would help. Now let me.  _

“Disarm them.”

Regulus let loose with a scream, pushing the other three behind him, and sending a fireball straight at the leader. It illuminated his face, and Regulus felt his blood run cold. 

“Fenrir Greyback.”

_ Please, allow  _ **_me_ ** .

Regulus knew Greyback, he knew what he could do. Behind him, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were fighting off the other Snatchers, with varying success. 

Greyback was a different type of enemy all together. 

Regulus handed over the reins to Slytherin. 

Immediately, a bright light exploded out from Regulus, throwing all the Snatchers back. Greyback tried to twist midair to land on his feet, but slammed face-first into a tree. 

Regulus huffed out a laugh, adrenaline filling him. The rush of magic was like nothing he ever felt. If suppressing it was painful, releasing it...releasing it was euphoria. 

_ Well?  _ Slytherin was smug.  _ Shall I do more? _

“ _ Yes _ ,” Regulus breathed. 

The next few minutes were a blur. Regulus was everywhere at once - helping Hermione battle three of the Snatchers, slamming Fenrir back into the tree whenever he showed signs of recovering, blasting Snatchers away from Ron and Harry…

Most of the Snatchers were moaning on the ground when said ground began to gravitate towards Regulus. 

Hermione and Regulus stopped fighting, leaving Harry and Ginny to contend with the last two Snatchers, and gaped at Regulus. 

He was surrounded by a ball of energy, one that was affecting the very gravity, and pulling everything towards him. It was a coil of energy, one that kept tightening, tightening… Hermione could see right away that it was eventually going to explode. 

“Regulus!” Hermione cried. “Stop!”

He looked up from his hands, wide eyed. “It’s Slytherin! I don’t know how!”

Hermione growled with frustration, the same vague sense of fear rising up. She squashed it, pushed it down. With her wand hand, she Stupefied one of the Snatchers. 

“You’ve got to stop, mate!” Ron bellowed. “You’re going to wipe out all of us!” 

Behind him, Harry yelled out what probably was agreement, but he was caught in battle with the last Snatcher. 

All around the clearing, the previously defeated Snatchers were recovering, grabbing their wands and rising to their feet. Hermione glanced around, assessing the situation. 

There were at least two Snatchers, for every one of them; they were effectively surrounded. Regulus was primed to explode. All in all, they had gotten themselves into a terrible fix. 

“Harry!” In the split second his face turned towards her, Hermione sent a stinging hex straight at his forehead. He yelped, a hand going to his face. 

Ron shook his head, turning back to Regulus. When the magical energy surrounding him didn’t abate, and just continued to build, he ran at the other wizard - meaning to tackle him to the ground, knock him out, or  _ something,  _ conveniently forgetting that he had a wand to do just that.

Regulus’ eyes widened at Ron’s approach. “No - wait!” Before he could stop it, his magic whipped out, knocking Ron backwards an entire meter. He barely avoided crashing into Harry. 

“Reg, stop!” Hermione screamed. She caught Ron as he stumbled to the ground, and passed him off to Harry. “You’re going to blow up the entire clearing!”

Slytherin’s magic flickered across his arms, and a white hot glow of magic emanated from his core. “I can’t!” Regulus cried out. “I don’t know how!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Greyback struggle to his feet. Wiping his face, he snarled, and began to move toward Hermione. The other Snatchers had Harry in a stranglehold, with an unconscious Ron already shoved in their cage. Ginny was still fighting, but her energy was flagging - it wouldn’t be long before she joined the others. 

_ This is less than ideal,  _ said Slytherin, a hint of doubt in his voice. 

“You don’t think I know that?” Regulus growled. He looked back at Hermione. “I won’t stop! Run!”

“Make Slytherin stop!” Hermione yelled. “I’m not leaving you!”

“You have to! Run! I’ll take out the Snatchers, then I’ll find you, I promise, I’ll find you -”

Suddenly, a blinding red light flashed, and the world stopped. 

The last thing Regulus saw before he fell was Hermione’s face, filled with determination - and her wand, aimed straight at him. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is kicking my ass.


End file.
